Fast Times At Beacon Hills High
by Persephone Price
Summary: AU. After her family moves to Beacon Hills, Amy is quickly swept up in the drama and danger that pervade the deceptively sleepy town. Eventual Derek/OC. Strong language and adult themes. **REVISED, and bear in mind that this was posted in 2011 :-)**
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hello, everyone! This is my first story, so be gentle :) As stated in the description, this is eventually going to be a Derek/OC story. I figure he's probably around 21 (?), so dating an eighteen year old wouldn't be unheard of. I realize that my OC may seem a bit immature in the beginning, but I assure you (without giving _too_ much away) that she will be forced to change.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing aside from the Bell family.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

An oversized forest-green SUV made its way down a deserted and winding road, a table strapped to the top and a moving van following closely behind. The weather was dreary – cloudy, but not quite raining. All in all, it was a very mundane scene. Inside the car, a nuclear family bickered relentlessly.

"You know we didn't have a choice, Amy – I'm sorry that you're so upset, but this is what's best," a middle-aged woman asserted tiredly. This conversation had been re-hashed many times before.

"But Mom, it's my senior year! How can you do this? How could you make _me_ do this, how could you make me leave my friends?"

"You're mother's right, it's not as if we deliberately tried to ruin your last year of high school," the father agreed. "This promotion was a godsend – it's going to be great for all of us, you'll see. Just give it time."

"Try to be a bit more mature about the situation," the mother added, "I know it's hard, but you'll make new friends. We at least waited until after your birthday to leave, didn't we? You still have a month before school starts to get your bearings. Look at your brother – he's not complaining."

The girl, Amy, snapped her head to the right to look upon her silently-smug younger brother, Ian.

"It's not as if he even had any friends in the first place," she quipped acidly.

"Don't talk to him like that," her mother retaliated with equal vigor.

Amy inhaled sharply through her nostrils and took a moment to compose herself. "Look," she started more calmly, "just because I'm young, everyone assumes that I don't know what I'm talking about – I'm sick of it! I had a whole life built up back home, and you see nothing wrong in just tearing me away from it. I'm nothing more to you than an accessory."

"Don't be ridiculous," her mother snapped. "We understand that you had a 'life,' as you put it. In only a year you'll be on your own in college, and you'll see what it's like to be independent. But until then, you have to learn to cooperate with the rest of this family."

"_Technically_, I'm eighteen – a legal adult," she asserted.

"Yes, and _technically_ your father and I are not legally obligated to support you anymore, are we?"

Amy huffed testily and put her ear-buds back in, directing her attention out the window. She knew that her parents had a point, but said knowledge certainly did not dull the pain of having to leave those she cared about. Her friends – the people she'd grown up with – were now miles away. Sure, they could keep in touch, but it would never be the same.

"How much longer?" Ian asked, speaking for the first time in over an hour. His voice was unfamiliarly low, a result of his age.

"Only about fifteen more minutes, sweetie," the mother replied.

They soon reached their destination, a well-maintained redbrick home. It was significantly bigger than their previous house, a constant reminder of the reason they were there: money. The family was now situated in a very obviously wealthy cul-de-sac; most of the other houses were comparably extravagant. Amy hoped – no, _prayed_ – that her neighbors weren't going to be the stuck-up snobs she suspected they were. Seeing as it was very early in the morning and no one was around, she wouldn't be able to tell for a few hours.

After parking their car in the long, gray driveway, they stepped out and wrenched open the trunk. The large moving van took its place behind them, and the stocky men inside soon filtered out and began unloading their furniture.

Amy and Ian took their suitcases out of the back and entered the unlit and eerily empty house.

It took the rest of the morning to get settled in, but by noon, the exhausted Bell family had finished their transition. As her parents sent the movers off with cheerful waves and smiles, Amy sat on her bedroom floor and began unpacking the myriad boxes containing her belongings.

Not long after, her mother appeared in the doorway. "You should go and introduce yourself to some of the neighbors," she suggested lightly.

"Why?" Amy deadpanned.

"Because it's the right thing to do – maybe you'll meet someone your age."

"Honestly, could you give me a _day_? We just got here. I saw my friends yesterday, and I'm really not looking to replace them so quickly," she said darkly.

"I'm not asking you to replace you're friends, don't be so over-dramatic. I'm asking you to go meet our neighbors. You're going to have to eventually, why not just get it out of the way?"

"Is _Ian_ going to meet the neighbors?" she asked in a falsely sweet tone.

Her mother stiffened and defensively replied, "You know your brother isn't the most social of people."

"So that's a no, then."

"I don't want to argue with you. Just do what I asked, please," the older woman snapped in irritation, turning and walking back down the staircase.

Amy rolled her eyes in exasperation, but stood nevertheless. She trudged down the stairs and begrudgingly out the door. Although it had been overcast earlier in the day, it was now warm and sunny.

She arbitrarily picked one of the houses beside hers and walked up the driveway to the front door. She then proceeded to ring the doorbell and wait, drumming her foot impatiently against the step. After a minute or two, it became apparent that either no one was home or no one wanted to talk to her.

"Off to a great start," Amy grumbled to herself. She then moved on to the next house, which was somewhat similar in style to her own and had a car parked out front; she rang the doorbell.

After only a few moments, a thirty-something year old woman appeared. She had wavy, dirty-blonde hair and strong features. "Can I help you?" she asked. Her raspy voice was both unexpected and quite intimidating.

"I – uh – I'm Amy Bell. I live next door," she stammered. "We just moved in and I thought I'd stop by and introduce myself."

"I'm Kate Argent," the other woman replied, "But, well, I don't actually live here… This is my brother's house. Although," she continued, "My niece is probably around your age. You look like you're in high school, am I right?"

Amy nodded.

"You should meet her, then. I can only assume that you don't really know anyone yet. Allison!" she called.

"What," came another voice from somewhere else in the house.

"Come here for a minute."

Soon, another girl appeared. She was pretty, with long brown hair and a kind face. She vaguely resembled her relative, but her demeanor wasn't as harsh.

"This is Amy. She just moved in. Have fun" her aunt said bluntly. With that, she disappeared back into the large house.

"Hi," the girl greeted with a gentle smile.

"Hey," the other replied somewhat nervously.

"So, you just moved here?" Allison initiated.

"Yeah, today."

"That's cool – I just moved here last year, so I know how it feels to be new. Are you going to be going to Beacon Hills High?"

"Yeah, I think so…"

"What year are you?"

"I'm going to be a senior, you?"

"Same. It must suck that you had to move away for your last year," she commented compassionately.

"You're telling me," Amy agreed. "But I guess there's nothing I can really do about it…"

"That's true – hey, I was just about to go into town with my friend Lydia… Why don't you come with us?"

Amy thought it over for a minute, before replying, "Sure, that would be fun… Let me just let my parents know." She then pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to her mother. "They're a _little_ overbearing," she remarked after looking up.

"Trust me, I can relate," Allison groaned. "But Lydia's driving, so hopefully she'll be here soon. Here, come inside – I'll give you a tour in the meantime."

They stepped through the doorway, and a middle-aged man with scruffy salt-and-pepper hair – presumably Allison's father – came into view.

"This is my dad," she said unenthusiastically. "Dad, this is Amy. She just moved in next door."

"Nice to meet you," Amy said shyly.

"Welcome to Beacon Hills," he said with a smile. "Allison, you should show her around."

"What do you think I'm doing?" she spat.

Her father looked mildly hurt, but soon resumed what he had been doing before they came in – reading the paper.

After Allison showed Amy her room, the former's phone began vibrating wildly.

"Lydia's here," she announced.

Sure enough, Amy looked out the window and saw a small black car parked in the driveway. Before they moved, Allison said, "I should warn you, Lydia isn't exactly the most friendly of people… Once you get to know her she's fine, but she can come off as being a little… high maintenance," she finished carefully.

The two girls descended the staircase; Lydia exited the car as they came into view.

"And who are you," she asked Amy before anyone got a chance to do introductions.

"I'm Amy, I just moved here," she said, somewhat taken aback by the other girl's abruptness. Lydia was just as pretty as Allison, but in a slightly more delicate way. She was pale, like the other two girls, and had reddish hair; she was groomed meticulously from head to toe.

Amy could practically feel herself being judged as Lydia's scrupulous eyes surveyed her.

"Lydia," she said finally. "So, you've just moved here, huh?"

"Mhm."

"Well, since we've apparently acquired the habit of taking in strays, Allison and I will be happy to show you around. You were lucky to get Allison as a neighbor, that's for sure – school hasn't even started and you're already meeting all the right people."

Amy was so shocked by this comment that she didn't even know how to properly respond. Apparently, Lydia and Allison were the school's self-proclaimed popular girls; she sincerely hoped she wasn't about to enter a Cady/Regina George situation. Trying to find the right words to respond, she eventually settled upon, "Yeah, thanks for doing this – I didn't mean to interfere with your plans or anything."

"Don't be silly – we don't mind having you here at all," Allison assured her; she was clearly mortified by Lydia's conduct.

Soon, they'd entered the quaint town of old Beacon Hills; Lydia parallel parked her car on Main Street with an expertise derived from a year of suburban driving. They strolled up to a cozy-looking coffee shop and the bell chimed behind them as they opened the door. After they'd bought their drinks, the girls took a seat at one of the small tables positioned along the sidewalk – they had a perfect view of all the people passing by.

"So, what do you guys usually do for fun?" Amy asked in an attempt to be friendly.

"The usual," Lydia replied boredly, "You know, go to movies, bowling and stuff. This town's pretty sleepy."

"How can you say that," Allison exclaimed in surprise. She turned to Amy and very matter-of-factly said, "A few months ago, there was murder – it was crazy. I can't even explain it – we were there when it happened. Lydia and I – "

"And our exes," Lydia interrupted.

"And _Scott and Jackson_ were in the school one night, right? My ex – Scott – had texted me and told me to meet him there. But when I found him and his friend Stiles, he told me that he'd never texted me. We were chased by someone and ended up being trapped in the chemistry lab. Eventually, Stiles called his dad, who's the sheriff, and the police came and we were fine. But they found out that the janitor had been murdered."

"Oh my god! Did they ever find out who did it?" Amy asked.

"They said it was this guy named Derek Hale, but they never found him."

"For all we know, he could still be running loose in Beacon Hills," Lydia added.

"Don't say that – it'd be stupid for him to stay here," Allison reasoned nervously. "He probably went as far away as possible. That was months ago – who knows where he could be by now."

Lydia simply shrugged and took a sip of her coffee in response.

"I bet my parents didn't know about _that_ when they decide to move here," Amy remarked with a laugh. If and when they found out, it would be the ultimate "I told you so" moment.

"Why did that guy do it?" Amy asked.

"Who knows," Lydia answered, "His whole family died in a fire and then he just disappeared and apparently went off the deep end."

"Who's to say that he didn't start the fire himself…" Amy commented.

Allison shook her head; "It _was _arson, but he was in the house when it happened so it couldn't have been him."

"That's what the police say, anyway," Lydia added.

"You don't believe it?" Amy asked.

"Look," the other girl said, leaning over the table conspiratorially, "he didn't just up and leave after that fire for no reason. And it seems awfully convenient that they never found whoever started the fire, either."

"So basically there could be a crazed murderer running around the town? I'd say that's pretty interesting…"

"I think you mean dangerous," Allison corrected. "As if my dad wasn't overprotective enough already, now he's pretty much a paranoid maniac."

"Just wait 'til _my_ parents find out," Amy commented, "They'll put an electric fence around the house…"

"My dad sells hunting equipment," Allison said, "You can only imagine what that means… Basically, we have a bonafide arsenal in the garage."

"She's not lying," Lydia added dryly.

"Oh my god," Amy laughed.

"I know, right? It's insane."

"So about these exes…" Amy started slyly after a few beats of silence.

Lydia perked up immediately and took on a completely different persona. "Oh I'll tell you _all_ about them," she insisted chirpily.

After about an hour of animated gossip, Amy felt that she was well informed regarding the ins and outs of Beacon Hills High. When Lydia dropped her and Allison off at their respective houses, she walked through the doorway and was greeted by her mother.

"Did you have fun?" she asked.

"Yeah, but don't even start with me. I'm not looking for a lecture on how I should listen to you more often, okay? I just want to be left alone."

"I know this is all hard on you, honey, but I really think you'll adjust well. So, who was it you were out with?"

"This girl Allison Argent who lives next door and her friend Lydia."

"Thoughts?"

"They were both nice, especially Allison."

"Argent, did you say?"

"Yeah, I met her dad and aunt. They seemed pretty nice too, I guess."

"And she goes to Beacon Hills High?"

"Yeah, they both do. I'm gonna go upstairs – anything else you want to interrogate me on before I'm gone?"

"No, I think that just about covers it. But Amy?"

"Yeah?"

"I know it seems like your father and I are ignoring your feelings on all this, but it really was the best decision for the whole family. We do love you, sweetie, and we're not doing this to make you unhappy. Just remember that, okay? If there had been a way to postpone this for another year and let you finish high school, we would have done it."

"Okay, Mom," she replied. "Love you too." As much as she hated it when her parents spoke to her like a five year old, she had to admit that it was touching to know how badly her mother wanted them to be back on good terms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Hi again, everyone! Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who's reviewed - I'm really shocked (in the best way possible, of course) and flattered by the number of people who have reviewed/favorited/subscribed. I was super glad to see that none of you thought Amy was a Mary-Sue! **

**There's one thing I'd really like to just put out in the open before we continue, so here it goes: I (obviously) don't know how the season(s) are going to pan out, but I already have a partially defined plot that I plan on using. Therefore, it's likely that a lot of the things that are written into the story may not be in accordance with how the show progresses. I hope this doesn't deter anyone from reading, but I just wanted to make things clear.**

**Also, there's one more thing I'd like to address - one of the reviewers (**pokemonrul432**) brought it to my attention that Scott and co. are sophomores in the show, which I did not know. I thought they were juniors because Jackson has a car/Scott is sixteen (which is usually how old you are when you're a junior?). So anyway, that's why they're seniors in this story. I'm sorry for this inconsistency! Unfortunately, I can't really change anything at this point :/**

**Anyway, sorry for this nonsense! I'm obviously a bit overzealous because I'm new to this... I hope you all enjoy this next chapter!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

The days following the move-in passed at an alarming speed. The fact that Amy didn't have a car made it difficult for her to do much, so she'd been spending a large part of her time with Allison. She couldn't stand to be around her family for extended periods, meaning this was really her only viable option.

This isn't to say, of course, that she didn't enjoy getting to know Allison – quite the contrary, in fact. She liked Allison. She was genuine and sincere, which set her apart from many other girls Amy's age. She could tell that, over the course of the school year, the two of them could become close friends.

Lydia, on the other hand, was a different story.

"High-maintenance," as Allison had called her, was an understatement when it came to describing Lydia Martin. She was so ambitious – so self-absorbed – that it was truly remarkable. But she wasn't some vapid "mean girl"; no, she was something completely unique. She did indeed put on a ditsy façade (particularly when dealing with members of the male species) but, beneath the lip-gloss and chewing gum, she was brilliant. There were occasions, rare though they were, when she would slip up and accidentally release some random shard of knowledge that was simply astounding. But the moments passed as quickly and erratically as they came.

She was fascinating, but not pleasant to be around.

About a week after they moved in, Amy woke up to her mother drawing her curtains for the first time in years.

"What are you doing?" she asked groggily, her voice thick with sleep.

"Your dad and I want to show you something – come downstairs after you get ready," her mother answered before exiting the room.

Amy was prone to letting her curiosity get the best of her, and today was no exception; she quickly jumped out of bed and rushed through her morning shower. After she was dressed, she followed her mother's instructions, only to see that no one was there.

"Come outside!" came a voice from the driveway.

She did as she was told, and saw her parents standing next to a small silver SUV with huge grins plastered across their faces.

"What's this?" Amy asked cautiously.

"We know that we didn't get you anything for your birthday, Amy," her mother explained, "And this is why – happy birthday, honey!"

Their daughter couldn't help but break out into a huge smile and run to hug her parents. They may have gotten on her nerves at times, but this was certainly one way to mitigate such a fact.

"Are you trying to bribe me into forgiving you?"

"Maybe," her father answered. "Is it working?"

"Maybe," Amy echoed. "No, but seriously guys, this is awesome. Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, kiddo. Now go, don't you want to take her for a spin?" her father said, tossing her the keys.

"Hell yeah!" she replied. "Uh, I mean, yes!" she corrected when she saw her parents' disapproving expressions.

She enthusiastically swung the door open and hopped inside, before rolling down the window.

"I'm going to go show Allison, is that cool?"

"Yeah, go ahead," he father answered, "But be back for dinner."

"Sweet! See ya later – love you!" Before she was met with a reply, she rolled the window back up and expertly pulled out of the driveway. She'd been driving for a couple of years already, so she was exceedingly pleased to finally have a car of her own. Plus, she was sure that Allison would be excited as well – now they wouldn't have to rely on Lydia for rides all of the time.

She drove the three-second distance to the Argent residence and parked her car outside, before rushing up to the front door.

Allison's dad answered and dryly greeted, "Hi there, Amy, it's good to see you again for the fifth consecutive day."

Amy grinned sheepishly and replied, "Hi Mr. Argent… Is Allison available?" Something about Allison's father made her feel the need to act more formally.

"I suppose so – Allison," he called, "Amy's here."

"Amy," Allison said when she came into view, "I didn't know you were coming over – did you text me?"

"No, I wanted to surprise you – here, come outside."

The two girls stepped over the threshold of the door. Amy pointed to her newly acquired vehicle and said, "Ta da!"

"Is that yours?" Allison exclaimed in disbelief.

"Uh huh!"

"Oh my god, that's awesome!"

"Late birthday present," Amy explained proudly. "Want to go pick up Lydia?"

"Uh, yes!" Allison practically ripped the door open and jumped in the passengers seat. "I'm texting her right now. She's going to be pissed when she sees this," she said once they were both inside.

"You think?"

"Yeah, Lydia's not good at being upstaged."

"Well, she still beats me in every other department…"

Allison laughed, "That's not good enough – plus, that's not even true."

"I hate to say it, but yeah, it kind of is."

"Psh, be quiet," the other girl joked. "You know you're driving me to school every day, right?"

"Of course, didn't your parents tell you? I'm your new personal chauffeur. But seriously yes, I'm so excited! We're going to have to take my brother too, though, which kind of sucks…"

"Your brother's going to Beacon Hills too?"

"Yeah, Ian's going to be a freshman. Isn't that just wonderful?"

"Oh stop," she laughed, "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"No, you don't understand. My brother's, like, the most awkward person ever. He doesn't talk. Like, at all."

"You're exaggerating."

"I wish I were! He's seriously so weird. I can't even handle it."

"Was he always like that?"

"No, that's just it – until middle school he was normal… And then he kind of just stopped. He doesn't talk very often, and he doesn't have any friends."

"What is he, like an ax murderer or something?"

"Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised…" Amy joked, "Hey, maybe he'll meet Derek Hale and they can go on a murderous rampage together."

"Not funny," Allison said lightly.

"Sorry, it's just so hard to believe that stuff like that could happen in a town like this."

"You're telling me…"

"What do you think Lydia will say when she sees this?" Amy wondered aloud, changing the subject.

"I don't know, probably something like, 'What do you get, like, five miles to the gallon?'" she mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "We're so mean," she added, "We shouldn't talk about her like this… I'm telling you, she's really not that bad when you get to know her…"

"I'll take your word for it."

After about fifteen minutes, they arrived at Lydia's prim, white house.

"Just beep the horn," Allison said, "She knows we're coming."

Amy did as she was instructed, and, sure enough, a ruffled-looking Lydia emerged from the navy-blue front door. The other two girls waved to her as she made her way to the back of the car. Once she'd stepped inside, she said, "This is yours?"

"Yup! My parents just got it for me. What do you think?"

"It's nice," she replied coyly, "A little ostentatious, for _my _taste, but nice."

Allison and Amy shared a secret grin, but kept their mouths shut.

"So, what do you guys want to do?" Amy asked.

"Mall?" Allison suggested.

"I agree," Lydia seconded, "I need mascara. And clothes. School's starting in, like, two weeks. I basically need like a whole new wardrobe."

"Alrighty," an uncharacteristically chipper Amy said, shifting the car into reverse, "The mall it is."

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><p><em>(The next day…)<em>

Amy walked into the kitchen the next morning, only to see her mother frantically chopping potatoes.

"Uh, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Oh good, you're up!"

"What are you doing?" she repeated.

"Cooking, what does it look like?"

"Yes, but _why_ are you cooking?"

"It's for dinner – we're having people over."

"Who?"

"The Argents."

"What?"

"Well, I just thought we should meet these people, especially since you've been spending so much time over there. I want to make sure that they're not psychopaths or something."

"Oh, you'll get along just fine, believe me…"

"Yes, well, I also just thought we should invite them over. They're our neighbors, after all… Anyway, can you do me a favor?"

"That depends…"

"Can you go to the grocery store and get me some salmon?"

"Ugh, but Mom, it's gross out."

"A little rain never killed anyone. Plus, we just got you that beautiful new Audi. Please?"

"Fine, how much do you need?"

"Four pounds. It might be expensive – I'll pay you back."

"Okay."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

"Sure." With that, Amy, slid on her wellies, grabbed her umbrella, and headed out to her car.

She had a bit of a difficult time locating the grocery store (she'd never been great with directions, to put it gently), but eventually she found her way. After paying for and hauling the large quantity of salmon through the parking lot, she started back home.

And God, could it rain in Beacon Hills. Rain wasn't even the correct term – torrential downpour was more accurate. Amy drove down the deserted roads slowly, with her high-beams on even though it was the middle of the day.

All of a sudden, she thought she saw a figure up ahead – but no, that couldn't be right. Why would someone be walking in the street in the middle of nowhere? Especially in this weather…

However, as she drew nearer, it became indisputable – there was someone on the side of the road. She slowly drove up beside the person and rolled down her window; through the water, she could make out the outline of a man who appeared to be around her age.

"Are you okay?" she shouted over the noise.

He kept his head bent down and gruffly replied, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Do you want me to give you a ride?"

"No, I'm fine," he insisted.

"Look, it's no trouble – we're obviously heading in the same direction, and no one should have to walk through this."

"Really, I'm _fine_," he grit out.

Amy was a bit taken aback by his rudeness and said, "Alright, if you say so…" Just then, another pair of headlights appeared in her rearview. The man walking beside her car saw them too.

"Actually, you know," he started hastily, "a ride would be great."

Amy looked at him skeptically, but pulled over nevertheless. Normally, she wouldn't have ever allowed a stranger in her car – not in a million years. Especially since he'd only agreed to get in the car _after _he saw someone else on the road (yes, she hadn't been oblivious to this). But it was the middle of the day and she knew that, if it were her, she would most definitely not want to walk home through a monsoon. Plus, what was the worst that could happen? Amy, not yet accustomed to the workings of Beacon Hills, didn't take the time to truly contemplate this rhetorical question.

"Thanks," he grunted coarsely, dripping water all over her brand new leather seats. His attractiveness, however, was what Amy noticed first; he was well built, with jet-black hair and a strong jaw line. Water droplets clung to his dark eyelashes and framed his piercing blue eyes.

"What were you doing?" Amy asked rather forwardly; she would have usually been more polite, but he hadn't exactly been a model gentleman either so she figured it was permissible.

"I lent my friend my car," he explained, "He was supposed to come pick me up, but he never showed."

"Is everything all right?"

"Hopefully. I'm on my way to his house now. It's just up ahead – only about five minutes."

"Okay, cool. I'm Amy, by the way. I just moved here."

"Nice," he said uninterestedly, staring straight ahead. When he realized that the car wasn't moving, he glanced at Amy, who was looking at him expectantly.

"Oh, uh – I'm David… David Hall," he said abruptly.

"Nice to meet you, David."

"Same. Do you think we could get going? I really need to get to my friend's house…"

"Yeah, sure," Amy replied, mildly alarmed by the young man's demeanor.

As they were driving, she asked, "So, do you go to Beacon Hills?" It was a pathetic attempt to make conversation, but it was a question nonetheless.

"What? No – no, I'm not in high school."

"Oh." He was clearly not the talkative type.

"Is there fish or something in here?" he asked suddenly.

"Uh, yeah, there's salmon in the back. I'm just coming back from the grocery store… You can smell it?"

"Yeah, it's pretty strong – especially when mixed with the new-car scent – not a good combination."

"Sorry," Amy mumbled embarrassedly. Great, now this handsome _non_-high schooler thought her car wreaked. That was just peachy.

"Here – it's just up there on the left," he said, pointing to a smallish house with a porch out front.

"It doesn't look like anyone's home," Amy commented.

"It always looks like that," he dismissed, swiftly exiting the car. "Thanks," he said while barely looking at her.

"You're welcome!" she tried to be cheery, but her attempts were lost on him. "See you around." For some reason, it came out as more of a question than a statement.

"No, I don't think so."

He shut the door before she had a chance to react.

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><p><strong>Author's note: As many of you have probably deduced, yes, David Hall is indeed Derek Hale ;)<strong>

**We won't be seeing him for a while longer, though! Sorry! I want to make things believable, and, let's be honest, he's not exactly going to be taking strolls through the town square :p. **

**I hope everyone was in character! I went back and forth with the conversation between Allison and Amy about Lydia because I couldn't really decide whether or not Allison would talk about Lydia behind her back, especially with someone she hasn't known for that long. The reason I went with it is a) because really, it's pretty easy to get teenage girls to gossip about each other (speaking from experience here, I'm a teenage girl...) and b) I have this nagging feeling that Lydia and Allison are going to have some sort of rift in their relationship by the end of the season (I mean, come one - Lydia made out with Scott). Also, pokemonrul432 mentioned that Chris Argent seemed a little OOC in the last chapter, so I'll work on that in the future. Hopefully Derek seems in character; I tried to make him pretty surly. I figured he might not be as short with Amy as he'd normally be inclined to be because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself.**

**On a more technical note, I can guarantee you that I will reply to your first review (but I read and cherish all of them!), but after that I'll probably only respond if you have a question. I'm happy to answer questions, though, so ask away! I clearly love to ramble.  
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**Sorry, in the future these author's notes won't be so massive! I just want to keep you guys informed :) Please review and let me know what you think so far! Your feedback truly is the fuel that keeps my fingers typing! (That sounds weird and cheesy, but it's true!)  
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	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! It really means a lot to me and I'm glad to see that many of you are enjoying the story so far.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Amy's head reeled as she continued on her way home. The exchange between her and David had been very peculiar, and she couldn't stop thinking about it. Had she done something wrong? Why had he been so brusque? More importantly, why had he been so distracted?

She soon arrived at her house, however, and was forced to push these wonderings out of her mind.

"Mom, I'm home," she called as she stepped through the doorway.

"Okay, can you bring the fish into the kitchen please," the older woman called back.

Amy did as she was told and was met with the strong smell of garlic.

"What are you making?" she asked.

"Sautéed spinach, mashed potatoes, and lemon glazed salmon. Can you turn the oven on?"

"Sure, Martha Stewart…"

"Did you find the store okay?" her mother asked, ignoring her daughter's jab at her housewife-y ways.

"Not really, but I got there. I eventually just used my phone as a GPS."

"I see. Your school schedule came in the mail this afternoon, by the way. I left it on your desk in your bedroom."

"Okay, I'll look at it later. What time are they coming over?"

"Seven. Would you set the table for me?"

"Yeah, okay."

For an hour, Amy's mother was able to invariably find tasks to occupy her daughter. However, at seven o'clock sharp, the doorbell rang and Amy silently thanked God for her salvation.

"Could you get that?"

"Yup!"

Amy swung open the front door and was met with the water-smattered faces of Mr. and Mrs. Argent, Kate, and Allison. Mrs. Argent was holding a tray of what appeared to be chocolate-chip cookies.

"Come in!" she said, stepping aside hastily.

Soon, the rest of Amy's family filtered into the mudroom.

"Hello! I'm Elizabeth Bell," her mother greeted, shaking hands with the Argents, "But you can just call me Liz. And this is my husband – "

"Jeff Bell, pleased to meet you," her dad finished with a toothy grin. "This is our son, Ian."

Ian nodded wordlessly, his bony hands tucked aimlessly in the pockets of his khakis.

"I'm Chris," Mr. Argent said, "And this is my wife, Victoria, and my sister."

"Hi, I'm Kate – I don't live with them, I'm just visiting."

"And obviously you must have heard all about my daughter, Allison," he continued.

"Hi," Allison said sweetly. For some reason, she didn't seem to fit in with the rest of her relatives. However, Amy couldn't place just _why_ exactly…

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you, please, come and sit down," her mother instructed, taking the tray from Mrs. Argent.

"This is so awkward," Amy whispered to Allison. The other girl grinned at her in consensus.

Once they were all seated and the adults were engulfed in their conversations and their wine, Allison said, "So, Ian, Amy's told me that you're going to be going to Beacon Hills High?"

"Mhm," he answered impassively. He was barely looking at her, and his hazel eyes jumped around the room uncomfortably.

"Are you excited?"

"Uh, I guess. I don't really care either way."

"He's really Mr. Personality, is he?" Amy commented sarcastically. Her brother glared at her across the table, but didn't verbally respond. Most of their squabbles consisted of Amy directing snide comments towards her younger brother, who would retaliate solely through pointed glances. However, every once in a while, he would put his large intellect to use and fabricate some sort of particularly biting comeback.

"Are you going to be a freshman?" Allison continued. She was apparently determined to draw Ian out of his shell.

"Yeah."

"So, what do you do for fun? Do you play sports? Music?"

"Uh, I play baseball."

"Mostly he just focuses on school," Amy explained for him, "He's very studious…"

"Oh, I see," Allison commented as if everything now made perfect sense. Saying he was "studious" was Amy's way of calling her brother an antisocial nerd without blatantly insulting him – not that she was _against _blatantly insulting him, however...

"Well, I think Beacon Hills has a pretty good baseball team. You don't play lacrosse, do you? We have a great lacrosse team."

"No, I don't…" he answered. Ian was most certainly not the "lax-bro" type, and he hated those who were.

A lull in conversation befell the three teenagers, and they began eavesdropping on their parents.

"So, Chris, is Argent a French name?" Amy's father asked offhandedly.

"Yes, yes it is," Mr. Argent replied proudly.

"Does it mean money? I vaguely remember something like that from my college French classes."

"Colloquially it does now, but when it was given to our family it actually meant _silver_," the other man explained.

"That's interesting," her mother commented lightly whilst on her way into the kitchen.

"We're French as well," Amy added, happy to have found a connection between the two families, "We chopped an 'e' off the end, but our surname was originally Belle. My great-great-grandad thought it was a little too girly for his liking, so he shortened it when he came over, isn't that right, Dad?"

"Indeed," he agreed; he chose not to elaborate.

Soon, her mother returned with the meal and began serving everyone.

"So, where did you guys move from?" Kate asked after a while.

"San Francisco," Amy's father answered, "My company transferred me."

"Jeff was actually promoted," her mother added, nudging her husband.

"Congratulations," Mr. Argent said dryly, "What is it you do?"

"I'm an electrical engineer," he explained, "I was made the president of the Beacon Hills division of my company... How about you, Chris, what sort of profession are you into?"

"I sell hunting equipment," he answered abstractly, "It's a pretty profitable trade in a place like this, what with all the forests and such."

"I can imagine," Amy's mother agreed.

"Do you do any hunting yourself?" Amy's father questioned innocently enough.

"A bit, when it's in season – but it's Kate who really enjoys it the most."

"Is that right, Kate? What do you typically shoot?"

"Usually deer," she answered slyly, "the occasional raccoon, if it gets into the garbage, but usually just deer. Do you hunt, Jeff?"

Amy's mother laughed; "Oh no, Jeff? He can barely stand to go fishing," she answered.

"That's not _quite_ true," he corrected, "But no, I'm not really much of a huntsman."

"Jeff's better with machines than with living things," his wife added.

"_Hmm_, sounds familiar…" Amy muttered under her breath while smirking at Ian. He kicked her under the table, and she let out a hiss of pain. Allison stifled a laugh.

"Well, perhaps I could change your mind," Mr. Argent continued, "You ought to come out with me and the guys some time."

Her father looked a bit sheepish and tentatively replied, "Maybe…"

Amy chuckled internally at the suggestion; her father was _not_ good with animals; they hadn't even been allowed to have goldfish growing up, and he was allergic to any creature with fur. And blood? Forget it – whenever she'd had even a minor scrape, her father would immediately send her to his wife for mending.

When it seemed that everyone had finished eating, Amy helped her mother clear the table. While she was in the kitchen, she put a pot of coffee on to brew and brought out the cookies that Mrs. Argent had baked.

In her opinion, the evening was going well. The Argents had strong personalities, but Amy's parents were relatively mild-mannered, thus minimizing the risk of conflict. Which was good. Very good. The last thing she wanted was conflict…

When the night was over, the Bell family walked their neighbors to the door and waved them off as they left.

"I'll text you tomorrow," Allison told her friend as she walked away.

"Okay, see you later!"

And then they were gone.

"They seem nice," Amy's mother commented once she had closed the door. "A little aggressive, maybe, but nice."

"Yeah, I told you. They're just normal people, nothing to worry about."

"Mhm. Now come in the kitchen and help me wash the dishes."

"_Mom_."

"Hey, she's _your_ friend…"

"This dinner was _your_ idea."

"Touché. But seriously, you're drying."

"Ugh," Amy groaned. However, she listened to her mother nevertheless.

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><p><em>(Two weeks later…)<em>

Before the Bell siblings even knew what had happened, the morning before the first day of school was upon them.

"Get down here, you're both going to be late!" Mrs. Bell screamed from the bottom of the staircase. Their mother was characteristically a very calm woman, but when she was mad, she was furious. And when she was furious, she was terrifying. Thus, the other members of the Bell family had all learned how _not_ to make their matriarch furious.

Neither Amy nor Ian had ever been "morning people," and the onset of the adolescent years had only served to magnify this fault.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Amy mumbled as she hobbled down the stairs, simultaneously trying to pull on her flats and apply a layer of lip-gloss. She was wearing some sort of patterned summer dress (as it was still warm), and her long, dark brown hair fell in careless waves.

Ian trailed closely behind, but it was clear that he hadn't paid nearly as much attention to his appearance as his sister had. He donned a polo and a pair of cargo pants, which might as well have been a uniform, and he seemed to have barely attempted to tame the mop of sandy blonde curls atop his head.

"Yo, Ian, no time for that – get in the car," Amy instructed as she watched her sibling grab a Pop-Tart from the toaster.

He carried his breakfast out with him, and slunk into the backseat.

"Really? In my brand new car?"

"Sorry," he muttered insincerely, spraying crumbs everywhere.

"_God, _you're cleaning that up!"

She quickly shifted the car into gear and parked in front of Allison's house, before removing the keys and heading to the front step. She knocked forcefully on the wood of the door.

As she was waiting for an answer, she began to admire the plants displayed near the steps. She'd passed them many times before, but never paid them much attention. She hadn't ever had much time to dally in front of the Argents' house, she supposed. It was then that she noticed a pretty purple flower…

Suddenly, she realized that Mr. Argent was behind her; she hadn't even heard the door open. She spun around abruptly to face him, startled.

"Allison should be out in a moment," he assured her as if sneaking up on people were a completely normal pastime. "You're admiring the flowers?"

"Yeah, they're pretty," Amy replied hesitantly, somewhat taken aback, "Purple is my favorite color."

"It's called aconite – better known as wolfsbane."

"Wolfsbane? Isn't that poisonous?"

"Not to the touch – not unless you're a werewolf, that is," he joked with an unnerving leer in his eye, "Go ahead, pick one. Mrs. Argent won't mind."

Amy traced the outline of one of the beautiful petals lightly with the tips of her fingers, but soon Allison appeared.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Yup, let's go. Nice talking to you, Mr. Argent! See you later," she called merrily on the way to the car.

Once they were officially on their way to school, Allison shifted in the passenger's seat and asked her friend, "So, are you nervous?"

"You have no idea," Amy answered bluntly.

The other girl laughed; "Don't worry," she assured her, "It will be fine. I mean, you already know me and Lydia, so the worst of it is over."

"Yeah, that's true, thank God…"

"How about you, Ian, how are you feeling?"

"Uh, fine, I guess."

"Nervousness isn't one of his settings," Amy quipped, "His emotional dial doesn't turn that far."

"Luckily, you're emotionally unstable enough for the both of us," Ian deadpanned.

"Oh, burn," Allison said with a snicker.

Eventually, they made it to the parking lot; people were already staring at her unfamiliar vehicle. If this was a sign of what was to come, Amy was quite sure that she was in for a rough day.

The three teenagers stepped out of the car, and Ian started walking towards the building almost immediately. Amy, on the other hand, shook her wrists out and took a deep breath before she even thought about moving her feet.

"You'll be fine," her friend reiterated, squeezing the other girl's shoulder comfortingly.

"I hope so," Amy murmured, "Let's just get this over with…"

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><p><strong>Author's note: So there you go, chapter three! I hope you all liked it. I really struggle with Chris and Kate Argent's characters, so I hope they don't seem too OOC and if you have any advice regarding how to write them I'd absolutely love to hear it! We'll get to see the rest of the gang in the next chapter. Please review!<br>**

**On another note, know what I noticed when I was watching this week's episode? I really like _all_ of the main high school characters. Like, even Jackson and Lydia. I just thought it was remarkable because I've never watched a show where I care about what happens to all the characters. Usually there's one person that I don't like or just don't have an opinion on, but that's not the case with Teen Wolf. The writers over at MTV should be proud of themselves, that's for sure... **


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed so far! I know I've said this before, but I really can't get over how wonderful you guys are!**

**One quick thing: if any of you are curious to see which actors I'd cast as my characters, check out my profile!**

**Amy = Kaya Scodelario  
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**Ian = Evan Peters, the rest are less important.  
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**This chapter's pretty long, and it was fun to write if I do say so myself. I hope you all like it!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Amy's first class of the day was Biology. She, unlike the rest of her family, had never been much of a science-y person (as she liked to call it), so she wasn't particularly thrilled to catch a whiff of formaldehyde quite so early in the morning. And, to make matters worse, neither Lydia nor Allison was in this class. Lydia, being the precocious young scholar that she was, had instead placed into AP Physics, while Allison took Chemistry instead. Apparently, the latter had taken Biology as a freshman at her previous school. Amy had not been so lucky.

She nervously walked into the classroom and saw several rows of lab benches, each with room enough for two people. There were still many available seats, so she chose an empty desk towards the center of the room; she didn't want to seem like either a delinquent or a suck-up, so the center was a safe choice.

In the following minutes, other students began to filter into the room; no one sat next her. (Because, ew, who wants to be stuck with the new girl?). Even the rowdy jocks avoided her – not because she was ugly or unappealing, but because they were disinclined to stray from the safety of their flock.

The teacher, a youngish woman with bleached blond hair and narrow "librarian" glasses, stood before them and nervously shuffled the syllabi.

Soon, the bell rang, and she opened her mouth to take attendance. However, she was cut short by one last straggler, who, in his frenzied rush, was forced to take a seat in the nearest location: next to Amy. He looked immediately to the back of the room, and locked eyes with another boy, who made an expectant expression and put his palms up in bewilderment. He was vaguely handsome, with a tanned complexion and naturally tousled brown hair. The boy next to Amy made a similar face and tapped his backpack meaningfully, before turning back towards the front of the classroom. He was average in appearance, with very short dark hair and a slack-jawed look displayed across his features. He sprawled himself over the lab bench in an attempt to catch his breath, causing Amy to eye him distastefully.

"Well," the teacher cleared her throat, giving the boy the same look Amy had, "now that you're all here, welcome to Biology! My name is Miss Hazeltine, and I will be you teacher for this year. Now, I'll take attendance while the syllabus gets passed around, and when we're done I'll be happy to answer any questions. If I mispronounce your name, or if you'd like to be called something else, don't hesitate to let me know."

She soon started reading off students' names alphabetically, which meant that Amy was one of the first to be called. "Amelia Bell?" she called.

"Just Amy," she replied bashfully, raising her hand. She hated her name; it sounded like something out of a Disney movie. The boy beside her raised his eyebrows briefly, but quickly looked away. Amy, in response, turned her attention to the syllabus, which had just been passed back to her. She scanned the paper and saw that they would be starting the year with dissections. _ Isn't that lovely_, she thought sardonically, _Nothing breaks the ice like cutting into a rubbery, dead frog…_

As the teacher made her way further down the list, she came to a name that must have been especially difficult to pronounce. She garbled something incoherent, before trying, "Mr. Stilinski? Sorry, I can't – "

"Stiles," the boy beside her replied immediately. He seemed accustomed to the confusion.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"It's Stiles. Just Stiles."

Stiles? It was an unusual name, and Amy was sure that she'd heard it before. Oh yes! It hit her after a moment; Stiles was the name of one of the people who'd be trapped in the school with Allison and Lydia the night that the janitor was murdered.

"Oh, okay…" The teacher then proceeded to read off the remainder of the names, of which there were few. When she was finished, she said, "Now that that's out of the way, are there any questions pertaining to the syllabus?"

No one said anything, which was to be expected from a group of high school students at eight AM.

"Right, well, I guess I'll just go over a few things, then. As you can see, we'll be starting off the class with some dissections. I did this intentionally, seeing as they will be partner-experiments and I thought it might be a good way for you to get to know your classmates. To eliminate any sort of drama or conflict, I'll be choosing the groups, which will be where you're sitting now. So, if you're next to a friend, lucky you. If you're not, I'm sorry, but these pairings are non-negotiable. We might as well just dive right into things, so we'll do the first one tomorrow. But don't worry, I'll start you off light – as you can see, our first victims will be earthworms. We'll spend the whole period tomorrow on this and then half of Wednesday's class. You'll be expected to write a lab report, which will be do a week from today." A few groans echoed through the room, but the instructor pressed on. "As for Thursday and Friday's classes, I'll be teaching you the information you'll need to write a proper report. Is all of this clear?"

Amy subtly glanced over at Stiles, who had his face buried in his arms. He didn't look pleased, to say the least.

Pretty soon, class had ended and the students were dismissed. A surge of life seemed to pass through the lethargic boy beside her, for Amy's new lab partner leapt up urgently and started towards the door. His friend from the back of the room quickly joined him.

"Dammit Stiles, we went over this," Amy heard him say, frustration evident in his tone, "I'm never gonna pass this class without you as a partner. I basically had to beg them not to make me repeat Chem…"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry dude. But I was in the middle of something important before I left the house; trust me, you'll be thanking me later. It has something to do with you-know-what."

"Honestly man, at this point there are so many 'you-know-what's that I can't even keep them straight anymore. Is you-know-who still staying at your house?"

"You mean Miguel? No. Well, yes… I don't know, he comes and goes – which is frickin' annoying, by the way. If I have to wake up to him jumping through my window at three AM one more time I swear to God… But anyway, this you-know-what is the same one that we were talking about before…"

"Oh, you mean – ?"

"That's exactly what I mean."

Unfortunately for Amy, who had been unashamedly enthralled by this conversation, the boys quickly moved out of earshot. It was odd – she almost felt as if she were invisible, seeing as a fellow student had yet to say a word to her. However, she shook off this obscurely hurt feeling and headed to her next class: History. AP World History, to be precise.

Amy loved history. It was by far her favorite subject, and she didn't even care that she was alone in this class as well.

The period passed quickly and uneventfully, like its predecessor. As she left the classroom, Amy glanced down at the copy of her schedule that she'd pasted to the back of her binder; she had third period free.

She made her way to her locker and began putting her books away.

All of a sudden, she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Allison?" a vaguely familiar voice asked.

Amy spun around quickly; it was the boy from Biology – the one who had been talking to Stiles.

"Oh – er, sorry," he stammered hastily. "I thought you were someone else. You look like my friend from the back…"

"It's fine – you know Allison? Allison Argent?" Amy asked. She could understand his mistake, she supposed. She and Allison did indeed have the same hair color and length, but the latter was a good three inches taller than the former.

"Yeah, do _you_?" He seemed slightly incredulous.

"Yeah, she's my neighbor… I'm new – I just moved to Beacon Hills a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh… Hey, weren't you in Biology first period?" he asked, a foggy expression of recognition spreading across his face.

"Yeah, I'm Amy," she introduced.

"I'm Scott," he said kindly. "I've got to go to class, but it was nice meeting you. I'll see you 'round."

"See you," Amy replied. _Scott? _she thought, _Allison's ex boyfriend? Why is he looking for her? _This was certainly an interesting development…

After her study hall, Amy had English with both Allison and Lydia. The three of them sat in a row, with Allison in the middle.

"How's your day been so far?" she whispered to Amy as they waited for class to begin.

"Pretty boring," the other girl answered, "Although, I kind of met Scott by accident – he was looking for you, and I guess we look similar from behind…"

Allison raised her well-manicured eyebrows, and Amy quickly added, "It wasn't anything weird, I think he just wanted to talk to you. I take it you haven't seen him yet today?"

"No, I haven't…"

"I should have asked this before – God, I'm such a horrible friend, but are the two of you... Well, are the two of you on good terms?"

"Yeah," Allison answered absentmindedly, "Yeah, we are. And don't worry, you're not a horrible friend – let's just say that my relationship with Scott McCall isn't exactly a topic that I like to bring up very often…"

Just then, the bell rang and their teacher entered the room. The two friends stopped talking, but Amy was determined to continue their conversation at a later date. Scott was most definitely more to Allison than a simple "ex boyfriend." They still had feelings for one another, that much was obvious… But, then, why weren't they together?

The teacher, a short man who appeared to be in his sixties, began speaking and Amy swiftly redirected her attentions. He went over the reading list (they would be starting with _Dracula_, apparently…) and took attendance. Nothing else of much consequence happened, and after class everyone headed to lunch.

As she, Lydia, and Allison entered the cafeteria, Amy was met with the all-too-familiar sight of lunch tables filled with cliques. There were the jocks, the nerds, the theater kids, the stoners, and the freshmen, amongst others. She was reminded of her old high school – of her old friends – and she felt a dull tinge of longing pass through her heart. As much as she liked Lydia and Allison, she really did miss her friends back home. She decided she'd try to Skype with them later and let them know how her first day of school went; she'd been a little negligent in terms of contacting them, and it would be good to hear their voices again.

Amy subconsciously scanned the masses of disoriented freshmen in search of her brother. She soon spotted him, as he was one of the taller boys in his grade. He was sitting at the end of a freshman table with two other, equally nerdy-looking boys. She had to admit, she was a bit surprised to see Ian talking to _anyone_, nerdy or not. He had always been a loner, but perhaps high school could be a new start for him; everyone was just as new and lost as he was, she supposed. Amy just hoped that he wouldn't embarrass her…

She and her two companions took a seat at an empty table, and Lydia quickly warded off some preppy freshman girls who hovered nearby as if they wanted to join them. Soon, Scott placed his maroon lunch tray on the table and sat across from Allison.

"Hey, I've been looking all over for you," he said.

"Have you?" Allison replied evasively, not quite making eye contact with him.

"Yeah, we should talk…"

"Not now," she responded hastily, "Later."

Scott looked rather dejected, but quickly shook off Allison's dismissal. "Hi, Amy," he said in an attempt to be friendly.

"Hi," she replied with a small smile.

Stiles then slammed his tray on the table and threw himself on the bench beside Scott. He looked as if he was about to say something, but then he noticed Amy. "Oh hey, it's you," he said simply. Scott subtly elbowed his friend in the ribs, but the motion did not go unnoticed.

Amy cocked a dark eyebrow. "Me?"

"Stiles, this is Amy," Allison said tersely.

"Yeah, I know, she's my lab partner. Amy. Amelia. You _are_ my lab partner, right?" he chattered distractedly, "How do _you_ all know her?"

"Amelia?" Allison whispered in her friend's ear.

"Yeahhh…" she responded in an equally hushed tone.

"She's right there dude, ask her yourself," Scott hissed to Stiles.

"_She_ has known Allison and Lydia since before school started," Amy replied snippily, "And yes, I am – unfortunately – your lab partner."

Stiles looked a bit surprised by Amy's sass, but quickly recovered. "You and Lydia, huh? No, no, Amelia, you've got me all wrong. The two of us are going to be _best_ friends, you just wait…"

"Uh huh," she replied, unconvinced. "Stop calling me that."

"What, Amelia?"

"Yes."

"But that's your name," he reasoned with mock-innocence.

"No, my name's Amy. Unless you'd rather I call you Mr. Stilinksi…"

"Oh ho – Mr. Stilinski? I like it – makes me sound important or something. Go right ahead, my dear _Amelia_."

Amy grit her teeth in frustration, but didn't respond.

"C'mon, Stiles, give her a break, it's her first day," Allison tried. "He's like this with everyone," she explained quietly to her friend.

"What are you talking about, I'm being perfectly nice," Stiles replied before taking a large bite out of his apple.

Allison rolled her eyes, but went back to her conversation with Lydia. "Where's Jackson, by the way?" she asked.

"How should I know," she replied huffily, "_You're_ his 'friend,' not me." She paused for several moments, before nonchalantly adding, "I think he's sitting with Danny and some of the other lacrosse players, if you really must know."

Amy, who apparently could not resist eavesdropping on this particular day, turned to where Lydia had indicated. She saw several muscular boys chatting around a table. One, however, kept anxiously glancing over at their posse; she deduced that this was Jackson. He was attractive – _very_ attractive, in Amy's opinion. He had an all-American look about him and, from what she'd heard, he wasn't some bumbling meathead, either. However, he and Lydia were most definitely _not_ on good terms – unlike Scott and Allison – and therefore Amy could never know him. _Too bad_, she thought wistfully.

When lunch had ended, Amy made her way to AP Statistics with Allison and, much to her chagrin, Stiles. As the three of them walked into the room, she noticed that Jackson was in the class as well.

"Hey," he said to Allison as they passed by. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but not in front of so many people.

"Hi," she said meekly.

"Hey, Jackson, ole buddy ole pal!" Stiles greeted, clapping the other boy on the back.

"Stiles? How the hell did you get into this class?" he demanded disbelievingly. Amy could tell from his tone that her dislike of Stiles was not an isolated opinion.

"I'll never tell," he joked before unceremoniously throwing himself into the chair behind him.

Allison, thankfully, chose not to sit near them, which meant that Amy would not have to suffer through another hour of Stiles Stilinski. This particular class passed at an unbearably slow pace. Not only was the teacher's voice droning and monotonous, but Amy found the material itself to be incredibly boring as well.

When the bell rang, she happily moved on to her last period of the day, French. Allison and Lydia took French as well, but they were both in a more advanced class than she. Which meant that she was, once again, alone.

By the end of the day, she was sufficiently tired and loaded up with homework. She met Allison at her locker before leaving and asked, "Hey, are you ready to go?"

"Um, I think I might stay after for a bit – Scott's going to give me a ride home, is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course," Amy replied, a bit surprised, "I'll see you tomorrow, then? Same time?"

"Yeah," Allison perked up, "yeah, that'd be great. Thanks for the ride this morning. See you tomorrow!"

Amy waved goodbye as she walked further down the hall in search of her brother. She found him at his locker, stuffing textbooks into his backpack.

"Hurry up," she instructed dryly as she casually leant against the locker beside his. Ian peered down at her disapprovingly, as if to say, _"You think you're cool because you're a senior?"_ but, of course, actually said nothing.

When he was finished, they walked back to her car in silence. As they drove home, she asked, "So, how was your day?"

"All right," he begrudgingly replied.

"What classes are you taking again?"

"AB Calc, English, Latin, History, and AP Enviro."

"Why the hell are you taking AB Calc?" Amy demanded in shock.

Ian shrugged lightly. "I placed into it," he replied carelessly.

"Dude, I didn't take that until last year. You skipped like three classes."

"Oh yeah, I forgot; instead of having a free period I'm taking Geometry. The school wouldn't let me skip it."

"_What_? _Why _would you do that? But still, you skipped Algebra 2 and Precalc."

"I don't know, math is just easy. What else to you want me to say?"

"Honestly, I just want you to do us all a favor and admit that you're a robot."

He smirked slightly (a rare sign of emotion, take note) and replied, "I'll do your Stats homework if you pay me."

"Deal," Amy responded immediately.

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><p><strong>Author's note: I hope you all enjoyed it! I absolutely <em>adore<em> Stiles, so we'll be seeing a lot of him in the coming chapters. I hope I got his characterization right! I'd love to hear feedback.**

**Again, if anyone's interested, I've posted pictures of the actors I'd cast in my profile.**

**Another random tidbit, for those of you who care: I named Amy after Amelia Pond (from the British TV series Doctor Who) and the surname Bell is a play on Belle, from Beauty and the Beast. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: Thanks so much to all the reviewers! I hope last chapter was okay. I don't know about you guys, but I can't wait for tonight's episode!**

**abby - Thank you for your kind words! I am very honored and I'm glad you know who Amy Pond is! Haha, I feel like no one knows what I'm talking about when I go on my Doctor Who rants. And as for combining companions and Disney princesses, how could it possibly turn out badly? That was my rationale, at least...**

**Katy - As do I, as do I... **

**Hope everyone likes this chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

"How was school, guys?" Mrs. Bell asked as her two children entered the house.

"Fine," Amy answered bluntly.

"How about you, Ian?"

"Okay," he replied.

"My, you're a talkative bunch…" their mother remarked. "How are your classes? Meet any new friends?"

"They were fine… Stats is going to be a nightmare, but everything else was okay… Oh yeah, except in Bio we start dissections tomorrow. Can't wait!" Amy said sarcastically.

"Already?"

"Yeah, they want to start off right away apparently…"

"What about friends? Any new friends?"

"Not really, I mostly just hung out with Lydia and Allison. I met two other kids named Scott and Stiles, but that's about it."

"And you, Ian? Any new friends?"

He shrugged; "Not really."

"I saw you talking to two other guys at lunch," Amy piped in.

"Oh, who were they?" their mother prodded.

"Just these two kids from my History class."

"What were their names?"

"Sam and Tyler."

"I'm going upstairs," Amy interjected, "See you at dinner."

When she finally made her way into her room, she plopped down on her purple bedspread and pulled out her laptop. After quickly checking Facebook, she signed into her Skype account. She video chatted with her friends from San Francisco, Chloe and Natalie; Chloe, apparently, had a new boyfriend. His name was Kyle. All was well with Natalie, too; her family just bought a new Labrador puppy. The dog's name was Violet.

After an hour or so of catching up, Amy decided to start her homework. Just as she was halfway through her English reading assignment, her phone started buzzing noisily; it was Allison.

"Hello?" she answered quickly.

"Hey," came her friend's slightly muted voice.

"What's up?"

"Nothing really… I just wanted to talk to you about how weird I was being after school today… Is there any chance I can come over?"

"Uh yeah sure."

"Okay, sweet… 'Cause I'm already outside your house…"

"Oh, okay – I'll be down in a sec." Amy hung up her phone and started towards the front door. Low and behold, Allison was standing on the doorstep.

"Amy, is someone here?" Mrs. Bell called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, it's just Allison!"

"Okay… But don't be too long, girls – I'm sure you both have homework to do."

"We won't!"

The pair went upstairs to Amy's room, where they could speak freely without fear of being overheard.

"So, what's up? I was going to ask what was going on between you two earlier… Lunch seemed kind of awkward," Amy commented as they both were seated at the foot of her bed.

"Yeah, that's just it… You see, I don't know… It's really complicated. There's just – there's a lot of _stuff_ between me and Scott. Like, I have these feelings for him – these really _strong_ feelings… But there's so much that's keeping us apart. I mean, it can never work – "

"What do you mean, _'stuff'_?" Amy interrupted.

"It's just – my family – my _dad_ – hates him. Absolutely can't stand him. And he's forbidden me from seeing him and I feel horrible for not listening to him, but I just can't! Amy, I think I _love_ Scott. Like actually love him."

"If you love him, then who cares what your dad says?" she suggested carefully. Amy was very surprised by this sudden outburst; Allison had obviously been waiting to talk to someone about this dilemma, and all of her emotions were flooding out at once. However, there seemed to be something she was skirting around – something she wasn't telling her. But Amy wasn't about the press the poor girl for information, either; if she wanted to tell her, she would when she was ready.

"I wish it were that simple! It's not – I mean, it's not the right thing for the two of us to be together. It's better for both of us if we're apart… But it's just so _difficult_ and Scott doesn't seem to understand that we need to _not_ see each other. And I can't do what's best for us if he's around, I just can't. I see his face and I break down. I forget everything that I've told myself. I try to be strong, but I just can't. And I hate it. I hate it so much… This has been going on all summer, too. There's all this sneaking around and trying to be quiet and hiding of evidence and I feel like a criminal! And now I have to see him everyday…"

"Allison, this sounds like a sort of Romeo and Juliet thing… I'm sure that if you just explain the situation to your dad he will understand…?"

"No, no, he'll never understand. He can't – I don't really blame him. It's just, he can't see Scott the way I do – he never can."

Amy was at a loss for words. She'd never dealt with a situation like this; usually, she was giving her friends advice on how to break up with guys. That, she was good at. But this? This was something entirely new.

"I really don't know what to say… Call me a hopeless romantic, but I see no reason that the two of you can't be together as long as no one's life is at risk."

The other girl smiled sadly. "It's all right, I didn't really expect you to say anything. I can't imagine how surprised you must be – you probably think I'm crazy! I think I just needed to get that off my chest… Surprisingly, I actually feel a little bit better now."

"Just think," Amy began in an attempt to cheer her friend up, "In a year, you'll be away at college. And four years after that, you'll be free to do whatever you like. Your father's opinions won't matter for much longer… You always have a choice, Al. He may be your parent, but he doesn't control your free will. It's too bad, but it seems like you just need to decide which relationship is more important to you…"

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Amy… I guess I should probably be going; your mom said not to stay too long."

"But are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I think I just needed to get all of that out of my system. I'll see you tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah, of course. Talk to you later – call me if you need anything," Amy said as she watched her friend walk downstairs.

"Will do – see you later!"

And then she was gone.

Amy flopped back on her bed and stared at the ceiling; _that_ had certainly been an interesting conversation. She couldn't imagine what it was that might be keeping Allison and Scott apart. What she did know, however, was that she was going to try to find out.

* * *

><p><em>(The next day…)<em>

The _ring _of the bell echoed loudly throughout the school as Amy and Stiles were seated at their lab bench. The latter gazed upon his female companion amusedly, with one hand propped under his chin and his brows raised lazily. He was the picture of innocence, and he was irking Amy to no end. She, in retaliation, stared straight ahead into the back of some girl's ponytail; she would not give _Mr. Stilinski_ the satisfaction of knowing that he annoyed her.

The teacher, Miss Hazeltine, soon glided in, her lesson plan clutched tightly to her modestly covered chest. She looked just as nervous has she had the previous day, but this time it was with good reason. The class was not pleased to have so much work so early in the school year, and the blond was quickly becoming quite an unpopular character.

"Hello, everyone," she chirped, "Are you all ready to start dissecting some earthworms?"

Amy resisted the urge to dry heave as Miss Hazeltine took bags of vacuum-sealed dead worms out of the lab cabinet and the smell of chemicals wafted through the air. Her disgust must have been clearly displayed across her features, for Stiles snickered loudly.

Without further ado, Miss Hazeltine inelegantly dropped one of the bags onto the center of their desk. "You can retrieve your dissection kits from the back of the room," she instructed.

Amy stood swiftly and went to fetch one of said kits, anxious to get away from her lab partner. When she returned, Stiles was already fooling around with the dead animal and poked at it through the plastic. He soon tore it out of its container and used one gloved hand to place it in the rubbery gray tray; both of them had to turn away from the overpowering scent that radiated from the creature. It looked almost like a toy and seemed impossibly long for a mere earthworm.

"This is gross," Amy whined while flipping through the directions.

Stiles, conversely, rubbed his hands together vigorously – if not _excitedly _– and said, "Well, let's get this party started, shall we?"

"How about this," she proposed sweetly, "How 'bout _you_ do the dissecting, and _I_ take notes?"

"But Amelia, where's the fun in that?"

"I mean, I _guess _maybe I _could _bring up how wonderfully intelligent you are the next time I talk to Lydia… That is, if we get a good grade on the lab report too…"

"You, my friend, have got yourself a deal," he replied happily. He then proceeded to lightly drag the scalpel from the center of the body to the top of its head. "Pins," he said, holding his hand out as if he were a surgeon. Amy couldn't help but indulge his request, seeing as she was glad to not have to do it herself.

When the horrible deed was finally over, Stiles and Amy cleaned up their station, washed their hands, and quickly exited the room.

"So, tomorrow we go over what we saw?" she asked in an attempt to be civil.

"Yup! See ya at lunch, Ames," he said as he walked in the opposite direction.

Amy rolled her eyes but continued onwards to history class. Stiles was insufferable, to be sure, but amusing nevertheless (though, she would never audibly admit to this reality). Plus, it seemed as if she didn't have any chance of escaping him in the near future, so she might as well make the best of a bad situation…

Later, at lunch, the five teenagers were united yet again. Amy watched the interaction between Scott and Allison quite intently; it looked, strangely enough, as if they were getting along normally.

She was torn from her voyeuristic ways, however, when Stiles began, "So, Amelia, we're going to need to write up a lab report at some point…"

"Yeah, but we have, like, six days until it's due."

"True, but we should probably start after tomorrow's class, don't you think?"

"I don't know, how long do these things usually take? At my old school, we didn't write our lab reports with partners."

"Oh… Well, we should probably meet a couple of times, I'd say. Can you do Thursday and Friday? We can meet at my house."

"Yeah sure, I guess…" she replied tentatively.

"Oh, after you're done with your little project, you can come to my party," Lydia interjected. Neither Amy nor Stiles had been aware that the others were listening in on their conversation.

Stiles was far too dumbfounded by the fact that Lydia had just invited him to something to respond, so Amy replied, "You're having a party?"

"Yeah, I always have a few people over on the first Friday after school starts. It's kind of a tradition – think of it as a christening of the new school year," she said dramatically.

"Oh… Well, are you parents going to be there?"

"I just live with my mom, but she's totally cool with it – who do you think's buying all the booze?"

"Your _mom_ buys you alcohol?" Amy asked in disbelief.

"Uh, yeah. She'll just take your keys at the door… So, are you coming or not?"

"We're coming," Stiles, who apparently was able to retrieve his voice, answered immediately.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: As you've probably noticed, Allison knows what Scott is. I feel like eventually she's going to find out this season... Her dad doesn't know, though, and neither does Lydia.<strong>

**And we will be seeing Miguel/David/Derek again very soon, don't worry! Pretty please review and I'll try to get the next chapter up ASAP.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: OMG, Monday's episode. Firstly, I DETEST Kate. I just can't stand her. Not to mention, the actress who plays her is like ten years older than the actor who plays Derek (cougar much?), but also she is just an evil, psycho b*tch. They don't work together, and it almost seemed too... I don't know, expected? It seemed like the wanted to give Derek a back-story and just lazily decided to make him another guilt-ridden anti-hero who was betrayed by his love, yada yada. I'm so upset that they made it cannon. And Kate seems to think she is a lot more attractive than she actually is…**

**And the Stiles/Lydia thing? No. Too soon. And why the eff was Allison the one pushing them together? That made no sense. I didn't realize that Allison and Stiles even had a relationship, let alone that she would try to fix him up with Lydia. It seemed like they were just looking for a way to push Lydia and Stiles together and this one was the most feasible. **

**I **_**was **_**happy, however, to see my prediction was right about Allison finding out about Scott. They certainly dragged it out and went for the drama factor… I'm upset that all the Argents know now, though. (Also, Kate just **_**magically **_**figured out that Scott was a werewolf because he's in love with Allison? Also lazy). I don't see any possible way for Scott to get out of this now that everyone knows he's a werewolf. **

**Sorry, enough of my ranting… This is a super long author's note, for a super long chapter! I hope you all like this next one, and my story is now officially very AU.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

After school on Thursday, Amy and Stiles met outside the front entrance of the building.

"Okay, so just follow me. I'll wait for you at the stop sign at the end of the road," Stiles instructed.

"Alright," Amy agreed awkwardly. "Are your parents going to be there?"

"It's just my dad… And he's the sheriff, so that would be a negative. He's hardly ever home… _Why_?"

"Just wondering," she answered lightly. And it was true; it had just been meant as an innocent question.

He gave her a skeptical look.

"_What_?" There was a pause, and realization set in. "Ew, no, Stiles – in your dreams. Get your mind out of the gutter."

"_I_ didn't say anything…" he replied with a smirk. His hands were raised, as if to indicate surrender.

Amy, annoyed, left in a huff to find her car. Her mother had agreed to pick up Ian for the next two days, which meant that she was only responsible for driving herself. It was eerily quiet inside the vehicle, so she plugged her iPhone into the stereo system and let her music play as she stopped behind Stiles' Jeep. He put his turn signal on and pulled off of the side of the road. She could tell by the way that he revved his engine turning the corner that he intended to drive like a maniac, and she was quickly proved correct as he sped down the side streets to his house.

His house. She had seen it before; it was where she'd dropped that guy off – David Hall – nearly a month ago.

He pulled into his driveway, and she parked behind him. They both simultaneously stepped out of their respective cars; the sound of closing doors was the only noise that echoed throughout the empty neighborhood.

"I've been here before," Amy commented as Stiles fumbled with the keys to unlock the front entrance.

"_What_?" he asked confusedly. He seemed a bit surprised, if not creeped out.

"Yeah, I dropped your friend off here once."

"What friend?"

"David Hall."

"David Hall? I don't – " he faltered. "Oh. Oh yeah. _David_ stays with me sometimes – his home situation isn't great," he explained somewhat shiftily.

"Oh…" she replied, stepping through the threshold of the dark house, "Yeah, it didn't really look like anyone was here. At the time it was kind of weird, now that I think of it."

"Yeah, he can be a bit _sketchy_..." Stiles replied distractedly, turning all the lights on. His brown eyes were anxiously jumping around the house, searching for something.

"Is everything okay?" Amy asked in response to his odd behavior.

"What? Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. I'm just looking to see if he's here now… David?" he called, "Are you here?"

There was no reply.

"Okay, well, looks like he's not. Sooo, my computer's in my room…" he started.

"Alright, then let's go upstairs?" she prodded.

Stiles licked his lips nervously. "Yeah – yeah, let's go."

She followed him to the staircase, and he began climbing up to his bedroom jumpily. Once they were inside, he quickly cleared off his wooden desk and shoved a heap of papers into one of the drawers. She lazily took a seat at the foot of his bed as he futilely attempted to organize the chaos. The rest of his room was just as disoriented as his desk had been; mounds of discarded clothes and other assorted items littered the carpeted floor. In the corner, next to his metallic trash bin, she noticed a heavily used paperback book entitled, "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Werewolves."

"What's that?" she asked amusedly, pointing to the book.

"Huh? Oh, that? That's nothing. I was a werewolf for Halloween last year and my friends got that for me as a joke." It was a totally lame excuse; he couldn't believe she bought it.

Amy cocked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"So," he continued uncomfortably, cracking his knuckles, "Shall we?" He was sitting at his computer and had pulled up a chair beside him for her to sit in.

"Sure," she replied, taking her biology book out before dropping her backpack on the floor next to the end of his bed. She then made her way over to the chair he had set up; they began typing up the introduction.

At around six o'clock, they decided that it was time to call it a day.

"So, we still have to do the conclusion and error analysis," Amy started, "So we'll meet here again tomorrow?"

"Yeah, that sounds good – there's only one problem, though… Lacrosse tryouts start tomorrow, so I won't be done until like five-ish," he said as he walked her to the front door.

"Okay, so do you just want to meet at like six then? Is that enough time?"

Stiles scoffed; "I'm a dude, _Amelia_. It takes me like five minutes to take a shower; you can come at like five thirty. Will you remember how to get here?"

"Yeah, I should be fine… Plus, I can always just plug your address into my navigation," she reasoned.

"Okay, cool. See you tomorrow, then," he waved as she opened the door to her car.

"See ya!" she replied.

* * *

><p>Amy didn't remember that Friday was the night of Lydia's party until she got home. Normally, this wouldn't be a significant revelation. But, she was meeting with Stiles at five thirty. And Thursday's session had taken around three hours. Which meant that Friday's session would take at least as long, which meant that they wouldn't be finished until approximately nine o'clock. Which meant that she wouldn't be able to go home, because she told her parents that she was staying over at Lydia's with Allison and that they were having a movie night. No one leaves the house for a movie night at nine o'clock – they would know something was up. Which meant that she had to leave straight from Stiles' house. Which meant that they would probably have to go together.<p>

This was an issue.

When she got to his house, she would be sure to bring it up.

Before she left however, she stuffed the clothes she would wear to the party into her overnight bag. Her outfit of choice consisted of a cutoff "The Who" t-shirt with a Union Jack on it (it also showed the straps of the blue bra she intended to wear – a very important detail), knee-length black leggings, and a pair of patent leather birdcage platforms. It was a far cry from her usual style, but, for some reason, she was feeling a bit edgy. She crammed her enormous cosmetics case into the bag as well and painted her nails electric blue.

After Amy made her way downstairs, she said goodbye to her mother and father before hopping in her car. She didn't like to make a habit of lying to her parents, but she figured that, in instances like this, it was better to keep them ignorant. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them, as far as she was concerned.

When she pulled up to Stiles' house, she walked up to the doorstep and found that the front door was already open.

"Stiles?" she asked as she tentatively stepped inside.

"Yeah, I'm up here!" he called from his room.

Amy closed the door behind her and started climbing the staircase. She pushed the door to his bedroom, which was already ajar, completely open.

"WHOA!" she shrieked in surprise.

Stiles jumped nearly a mile in the air. "_What_?" he exclaimed.

Amy quickly brought a hand up to shield her eyesight. "_What_ are you _doing_?" she demanded.

"I just got out of the shower, what do you want from me? Jesus, haven't you ever been to the beach?" He quickly pulled a "Pink Floyd" t-shirt over his head, finally becoming fully clothed.

"No, I mean, well, yes, but _no_! I just want to write a lab report about a frickin' earthworm, and this is what I get. Figures."

"Stop overreacting," Stiles chided lightly.

After the heavy layer of awkwardness had finally dissipated, Amy said, "So, I kinda have to go to Lydia's straight from here."

"Uh, okay. Why are you telling me this?"

"Well, because, depending on what time we finish I might have to hang out here until ten. I told my parents I was going to Lydia's for a movie night, so I can't exactly go back home in the meantime."

"Alright, that's fine…"

"So, I can get ready here?"

"Get ready? Like _girly_ get ready?"

"Yeah, like get dressed and do my make up?"

"I guess, but you'd better not hog the bathroom… So," he added pseudo-casually, "If we're going to the same place, we might as well go together…"

"Not as a date," she added immediately.

"No, obviously not; sorry, sweet-cheeks, but Lydia's the only girl for me."

"I'm just going to pretend that you never called me that and we won't ever speak of it again. I'll drive; it's less date-like."

"Fair enough," he agreed. "So, we should probably get to work…"

"Yup." _God_, Amy thought, _this has to be one of my most awkward experiences to date…_

Three hours later, the sound of the garage door opening rang through the house.

"Is that your dad?" she asked. They'd just finished their report, and, both Stiles and Amy had to admit, it came out pretty well.

"Yeah probably."

"I thought you said he doesn't get home until late?"

"He probably just came back to get something. It _is _Friday night, after all. He's got wild teenage parties to bust…"

"Funny," Amy deadpanned.

"I try."

"Well," she said lazily, slinging her bag over her shoulder, "I'm going to go change and do my makeup."

"I'm starving; I'm gonna order a pizza," he replied, "Any preferences?"

"No, I don't care."

Amy soon emerged from the bathroom, wearing her carefully thought out ensemble (minus the heels) and heavy black eyeliner. She went into Stiles' room, but he wasn't there; so, she tried the kitchen. Sure enough, there we was, shoveling pepperoni pizza into his mouth.

He glanced up from his meal to look at her and said, "Interesting."

"Interesting?"

"You like The Who?"

"Of course. I love classic rock."

"I wouldn't have expected it."

"I get that a lot…"

All of a sudden, a man, presumably Stiles' father, entered the room in a rush. He had a Diet Coke in one hand, and a slice of pizza in the other.

"Oh, uh, hello," he sputtered.

"This is my friend, Amy," Stiles introduced.

"Hi," Amy said uncomfortably; she wasn't exactly wearing the most parent-friendly outfit, to say the least.

"Nice to meet you, Amy. I'm Sheriff Stilinski. I'd love to stay and talk, but I've got to go. You kids aren't staying in, are you? Stiles, you know the rules…"

"Ew, no, Dad. It's nothing like that. We're going to meet up with Scott and Allison."

Sheriff Stilinski raised his eyebrows and Amy elbowed Stiles sharply in the ribs; he'd just inadvertently made it sound like a double date.

" – And Lydia," he added hastily, "Just as friends."

"Alright, well, be safe. I'll see you later, son."

"Goodnight, Dad."

When he was gone, Amy grabbed herself a piece of pizza and sat at the table across from Stiles. They chatted about bands for about an hour, finding – to the surprise of both – that they had much more in common than they'd anticipated. After a while, it came time for them to head over to Lydia's.

"Ready to go?" Amy asked, starting towards the door.

"Oh, you have no idea…" he said excitedly.

They jumped in the car and blasted the music loudly in preparation for the night to come.

"Dude," Stiles started enthusiastically, "maybe if Lydia gets drunk enough, she'll make out with me."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Don't get your hopes up," she said wryly.

Before long, they'd arrived and saw that a fair amount of people was already parked in the driveway. Stiles, who could barely contain himself, nearly shot out of the car. Amy followed suit, albeit much more calmly; she made sure to lock the car doors behind her, before walking towards the house. Stiles walked through the house, but Amy spotted Allison and Lydia already on the back patio and went around instead.

"Hey, guys," she greeted. She had to yell in order for her voice to be heard above the music.

"Oh, you're just in time!" Lydia said, equally loudly. She was wearing a short, sequined dress with gold pumps, and had bright red lipstick neatly applied on her heart-shaped lips. Allison, on the other hand, was wearing a strapless black dress with fuchsia platforms. Lydia quickly handed Amy a shot glass filled with a clear liquid. "Alright girls, on three. To starting this year the right way," she said slyly, raising her glass, "One, two, three!"

The trio threw back their heads and swallowed their shots; Amy couldn't help but wince as the cool vodka burned her throat. Lydia shook her head in an attempt to recover from the zing, before saying, "Who's up for another one."

"I'm good," Allison said hoarsely, pressing her hand to her chest.

"I'll go for another," Amy said, grinning. Lydia smirked and poured another round, as Allison met up with Scott, Stiles, and some of their other classmates.

"Let's do double," Lydia suggested.

"Why not," Amy agreed happily, despite her better judgment. She downed another round of the burning liquid, but this time the sting wasn't as strong.

Feeling pleasantly warm and lightheaded, Amy and Lydia headed to the open area of the patio/makeshift dance-floor.

Almost immediately, Amy found some handsome brunette that she'd never met before and the pair started dancing. After four songs, she got bored of him and excused herself; she soon saw Stiles and Scott standing around the beer cooler. She headed over, grabbed a can out of the ice, and popped the cap. She drank it much too quickly, and felt the effects – most notably dizziness – almost immediately.

"Are you guys having a good time?" she asked the two boys giddily.

"You sure are," Scott said with a grin.

"Indeed I am," she answered with a flourish.

"Oh my God," Stiles laughed, "You're a hot mess."

"I am not!" she protested.

"Yeah, you kinda are," Scott agreed sheepishly.

"Shut up," she mumbled.

Allison soon caught sight of her friend. "Amy?" she asked in amusement.

"Allison!" the other girl exclaimed, hugging her friend, "You're, like, my best friend, do you know that?"

"I'm flattered," she laughed.

"Oh my God," Stiles repeated, covering his face with his hands. "She has to drive me home tomorrow morning."

"Good luck with that," Scott joked. "How much did she have?"

"Not that much," Allison answered with a snicker.

"Ah, so she's a lightweight," Stiles commented, "I can't say I'm surprised…"

"Hey, I heard that!" she protested.

"Amy? Ames, I need you to let go of me for a sec," Allison said kindly, "I have to go inside."

"Oh, okay…" She begrudgingly released her friend so that she could go inside and use the bathroom. In the meantime, Amy busied herself with drunk-texting her friends from back home. Oh, how she would regret it in the morning...

Another hour passed, and midnight came swiftly. Amy, who had been prohibited from drinking any more, was beginning to sober up. Now, it was Allison's turn to be the drunkest.

"Oh my God, Scott, do you remember that time we snuck into the boy's locker room during sixth period?" she giggled.

Amy and Stiles burst into a fit of laughter as Scott's cheeks reddened.

"Uh, yup, Al, I remember…" he stammered uncomfortably. His phone vibrated and he dug his hand into his pockets, happy for a distraction. His eyes widened as he read the text.

"Uh, Stiles," he said urgently, elbowing his friend. He showed him the phone.

"Shit," Stiles mumbled.

"We've got to go," Scott insisted. "Allison, why don't you go make sure Lydia's okay."

"Mmkay," she replied happily. And soon she was off...

"Um, problem: neither of us has a car…." Stiles pointed out.

"How'd you get here?" he demanded.

"Amy drove."

"Oh, dear God. Well, she can't drive now…"

"Yeeeeah probably not a good idea," Amy agreed.

"I've got it!" Scott said, "Amy, give me your keys. I'll drive your car back to Stiles'."

"Back to Stiles'? Why?" she asked.

"It's an emergency. We need to get back there."

"Well, I'm not just letting you take my car!"

"_You_ obviously can't drive," Stiles pointed out.

"And you can?" she snapped.

"I can," Scott interjected, "I only had one beer. I'm fine."

"Fine, you can drive – but I'm going to supervise! If something happens to my car, I will shank someone…"

"Okay, tiger…" Stiles said.

Scott sent him an urgent look.

"What, she's not exactly a threat…" he replied.

"Fine. But she waits in the car once we're there."

"What's going on?" Amy whined.

"Give me your keys," Scott ordered hurriedly.

"Didn't she give them to Lydia's mom?" Stiles asked.

Amy dug them out of her bag and tossed them to Scott. "No, I went around the back," she said.

When they were all in her car (Amy was, for the first time, sitting in the backseat), Scott sped towards Stiles' house. They arrived in almost half the time it'd taken for them to get there. The two boys ran out of the car without even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition.

"Wait here," Stiles instructed firmly.

"Wait, why? What's the matter?" Amy called after them. She couldn't imagine any reason that they'd have to get back to Stiles' house in such a hurry, and in the dead of night no less. Her phone vibrated: it was Allison.

_wjere r u?_ _the cops r here__, _it read. Amy ignored it.

The alcohol had drastically affected her decision-making skills, so she did the only thing she could think of – she got out of the car and walked into the house. She tiptoed quietly up the staircase; Stiles and Scott were both in Stiles' room, she assumed.

The door was only halfway closed. She peered in, and couldn't believe her hazy eyesight: there, on Stiles' bedroom floor, was a battered and bloodied David Hall.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Muahaha, please review!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: Holy reviews, Batman! OMG, I can't believe how many people reviewed the last chapter! I love you all so much! I was literally dying when I read some of the comments. Hopefully this chapter isn't a disappointment. We do (finally) get to see a lot more of Derek ;)**

**Warning: This chapter has much stronger language than its predecessors.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

"He's bleeding all over my floor," Stiles complained, his voice devoid of any sort of compassion.

"Derek – Derek, what happened?" Scott's voice hissed urgently, cutting through the darkness and silence. He was kneeling beside the other man's prone body, inspecting his injuries; they looked suspiciously like gunshot wounds.

"It – it was Kate. I was trying to track the new ones, but she found me… I barely got away. She was loading her gun with the blue monkshood just before I escaped… Trust me, things could have been much worse…"

_Derek_? The name sounded familiar to Amy's alcohol-addled mind, _too _familiar. Oh. Oh no… As she attempted to sort through her confusion, everything set in at once. David was Derek. David Hall. Derek Hale. How could she not have suspected it before?

She burst into the bedroom unthinkingly. "What the actual fuck?" she exclaimed, her voice several decibels louder than necessary.

Stiles and Scott shared an expression of sheer and utter panic.

"Who the hell is this?" Derek grit out. His tone held strange but not foreign a mixture of pain, anger, and surprise.

"Amy, I told you to wait in the car!" Stiles shouted back in irritation.

"Yeah, okay, so you could patch this homicidal fugitive up from the safety of the _fucking sheriff's_ house?" she hissed angrily.

"Amy, you don't understand," Scott tried.

"No, obviously not," she snorted.

"Derek never did anything wrong," he explained, "It wasn't him that night at the school."

"That doesn't explain why he's lying on the floor with three bullet wounds in his chest!" she screamed hysterically. "He sure looks guilty from this angle!"

"Speaking of bullet wounds," Derek cut in agitatedly, "will one of you find something to get these goddamn bullets _out_!"

Stiles jumped up quickly and rushed out of the room.

"Why was he shot?" Amy demanded.

Silence.

"If you guys don't tell me what's going on, I'm going to call the police!" she yelled.

"I hate to have to repeat myself," Derek asked Scott, "but who the _hell_ is this annoying bitch?"

"Areyoukiddingme?" she slurred angrily. "I don't think you're in any position to be insulting anyone, Mr. Gunshot Wounds!"

"Are you drunk?" Derek asked in complete disbelief. Scott nodded solemnly.

"Derek, meet Amy," he introduced.

"I'm not drunk! I mean, I had a couple of drinks _maybe_, but I'm not drunk!" she refuted. "And you don't remember me? Seriously?! I gave you a ride, remember? Apparently I was lucky to escape with my life!"

"You're wasted," he stated bluntly.

Amy opened her mouth to attempt another vicious retort, but just then Stiles returned with a pair of large tweezers and a needle and thread in his hands.

"Okay, I washed the tweezers and the needle off with rubbing alcohol… That should be fine, right?" he asked frantically. He was still not quite his self, either.

"Yeah, that's perfect," Scott replied. He put his hand out, and Stiles gave him the tweezers. "Can you turn the lights on?" he asked.

Amy was the one to answer this request. As Scott went to work on Derek's torso, she turned to Stiles and demanded, "_Now_will you tell me what's going on?"

"Amy, it's a _really_ long story. And you don't want to know. Trust me, it's better for everyone if you don't get involved…"

"You guys can't really expect me to walk in on you patching up a criminal's bullet wounds and then just continue on my merry way as if nothing happened!"

"Look, Derek is innocent. That much I _can_ tell you."

"Who did this to you?" she asked Derek directly.

He hissed in pain as Scott dug into the second wound, but clenched his teeth and replied, "The police, who else?"

"No," Amy snapped, "I know that's a lie. You said Kate. Before I came in, you said that someone named Kate did that to you."

"Shit," he growled in response. "Take it away, Stiles."

"What? Don't pin this on me!" he whined. Amy stared him down evilly.

"Look, Ames, you really don't want to be involved. Just trust me, it's for your own good."

"How do you two even _know_ Derek," she continued agitatedly, "He doesn't even go to Beacon Hills High and he's obviously older than us. What the hell are you guys doing associating with a wanted fugitive? And you still haven't told me who Kate is!"

Stiles sighed deeply. "He's our friend…" he said evasively. "And Kate? Well, Kate Argent is the one who shot him."

"_Kate Argent_? Why in god's name would she shoot him? Aside from the fact that he's a _criminal,_that is."

"Because, well, because," Stiles rambled, searching for a plausible excuse.

"Because she's my psycho ex-girlfriend," Derek finished with another pained hiss as Scott pulled out the last of the bullets. Derek sat up with an ease that seemed nearly impossible given the circumstances. "I don't need the stitches," he told Scott.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a sec; if Derek didn't kill that janitor, then who did?"

No one said anything, but the three males looked at one another anxiously.

"I dunno," Stiles finally said casually.

"Bullshit, you know. You wouldn't have waited so long to answer, otherwise. And if you know, _why_ haven't you told anyone?"

"It was my uncle," Derek answered gruffly. "I can't turn in one of – one of my relatives."

"Well why not? If he's a murderer, I'd say you have a damn good reason to turn him in!"

"He's the only family I have left," Derek said quietly, staring at the ground.

Amy toned down her outrage for a moment, not quite anticipating this response. "But still," she insisted more gently.

Scott stood up. "Where can I throw these away?" he asked, indicating to the bullets.

"Bury 'em outside, just to be safe," Stiles said, "The last thing I need my dad finding in the trash is a handful of silver bullets…" He clamped his hand over his mouth immediately, as if to stop the words from coming out. But it was too late; Derek and Scott looked at him as if they might kill him.

"_Silver_bullets?" Amy demanded, narrowing her eyes, "Why didn't she just use regular bullets?" The image of "The Complete Idiot's Guide To Werewolves" flashed in her memory.

Stiles laughed somewhat manically: "Ha! What are you even implying? That he's a _werewolf_ or something? Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?"

"Yeah, yeah it's pretty ridiculous – like finding your friends tending to an injured murderer."

"Yeah, but you're talking about _defying the laws of nature_ ridiculous," he reasoned.

"Fine, but still I want some answers. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the cops and tell them it was Derek's uncle who killed those people."

"Because if you even think about it, he'll kill you too," Derek deadpanned.

"How will he know?" she countered sassily, crossing her arms and popping out her hip.

"He'll know," Derek said vaguely. "My uncle… He's not well. He's not normal – mentally, that is. He will find you, and he will kill you."

"Well that's certainly comforting… All the more reason to contact the police."

"No, you don't understand," Derek continued, "Even if the police found him, they wouldn't be able to stop him. They would die in the process."

"I find it hard to believe that the entire police force would be unable to bring down _one_ man."

Derek simply shrugged.

"I'm going to ask Allison about this," she said finally, "I'm going to ask her why her aunt didn't call the police and shot you herself instead. _How_ did she even find you, by the way?"

Scott and Stiles looked at him, too; they wanted to know the answer to this question as well.

"I was walking," he said enigmatically, "And she tracked me down and shot me."

"Why would she do something like that?"

"Because she's crazy," he said matter-of-factly.

Kate Argent _had_ always seemed a bit aggressive, but Amy still found it hard to believe that she would track down and shoot one of her ex-boyfriends.

Several moments passed during which no one said anything.

"Look," Amy finally began slowly, attempting a different approach, "I know that you're not really telling me everything. I just want to know the truth; you can trust me, I promise."

"You can't handle the truth," Stiles said ominously_._

"Stiles is right," Scott piped in, "You wouldn't believe us, even if we told you. Once you get involved, there's no turning back. You don't want that, Amy, you really don't. There's no reason you need to know this stuff; it will just unnecessarily complicate your life. You should just turn around and leave. Forget you even saw anything."

"You know I can't do that. _Please_ tell me?"

Scott sighed deeply and turned to Derek and Stiles. Amy clearly wasn't relenting any time soon, and they needed to ensure that she wouldn't tell anyone what she had seen. "Give us a sec," he said.

Amy nodded wordlessly and left them to converse.

"What do you guys think?" Scott asked.

"Well, I think it's safe to say she's not going to drop it," Stiles said.

"Yeah, but telling her… That's _huge _risk," Scott said.

"You can't actually be considering telling her!" Derek hissed.

"Can you think of any other way to get her off our backs?" Stiles snapped equally harshly.

"We could kill her," he deadpanned.

"We're not killing anyone!" Scott interjected. "Stiles, you know her best, what do you think we should do?"

"I mean, I think we can trust her, but I don't want to be the one making these executive decisions! Okay, look at it this way I guess – a bunch of people know. It's not a _huge_ secret. I mean, all the Argents know, Jackson knows, Scott's boss knows… And if she sticks around, she might even find out anyway. She is our friend, after all…"

"You can't tell her," Derek continued, still shocked that it was even an option.

"The way I see it," Stiles replied, "we either tell her or we deal with my dad and the rest of the police force finding you here. And I'd really rather avoid that. Plus, even if she tells someone, who's gonna believe her?"

Derek opened his mouth to protest once more, but Scott cut him off.

"If I tell you," he started, calling Amy back into the room, "you have to promise me a couple of things."

"Okay!" Amy agreed immediately.

"Okay, firstly," he said, "you have to promise not to tell anyone. That much is obvious. Second, you have to promise not to freak out."

"I promise."

He sighed again. "Alright, you asked for this…"

Scott clenched his teeth and started breathing heavily, almost as if he was angry. All of a sudden, something very strange began to happen to him. His nails began to grow into gruesome claws and his face contorted horribly. Hair appeared on the sides of his face, and his canines elongated. Derek made a move to hold him back. Stiles backed away. Amy screamed.

"What the hell!" she cried.

"Told you," Stiles said calmly.

Scott growled viciously. Derek's own nails grew to match the other's, giving him the power to restrain the werewolf.

"Scott," Derek said firmly, "Scott, you can stop now. Change back." Nothing happened. "Amy, you need to calm down," he said finally, "He senses your fear and its making it more difficult for him to change back."

"Oh, excuse me if I'm a little shocked!" she said, nearly in hysterics. "Is that – is he – is he a _werewolf_?" she demanded disbelievingly. Her eyes had to be deceiving her. Maybe she'd had more to drink than she'd thought – maybe someone had slipped something into her drink. This couldn't be real.

"Yes," Derek answered bluntly. Scott growled again.

"And you too?"

"Yes," he repeated.

"And you?" she asked Stiles.

"No, I'm normal – which is a rarity, as you'll come to find…"

Amy let out a nervous laugh and murmured, "Oh my God. This can't be happening. I'm hallucinating. Someone roofied me."

"Amy, you really need to calm down," Derek repeated. It was getting harder for him to hold a thrashing Scott back, as he'd been injured and was therefore weaker than the teenager.

"Calm down? How can I calm down?!"

"He'll attack you if you don't!"

"Oh, that's really helpful!"

"Look, I won't let him hurt you. Does that make you feel better?"

"No, not at all!" She was hyperventilating and looked as if she might have a panic attack. Stiles awkwardly put an arm around her and said, "It's okay, you're fine. He's not going to hurt you, and neither is Derek. It's his uncle that you have to worry about…"

"Not helping," Derek interrupted angrily as Scott tried to lunge at them.

"Scott," Stiles said, "chill out. Think of Allison."

The word "Allison" seemed to trigger something in Scott's brain, and he reacted almost immediately. His claws retracted and his face and teeth began to return to their normal state.

"Does Allison know?" Amy asked suddenly.

"Yeah," Stiles admitted, "But she doesn't know that we've been helping Derek."

"Sorry, guys... You see," Scott interjected after catching his breath, "the Argents aren't a normal family. They're werewolf hunters."

"So _that's_what the problem was," Amy said, having an epiphany.

"What?" Scott asked.

"The other day, she came to me really upset but she didn't really tell me why. She said it was because it wasn't safe for you two to be together, but I didn't really understand what she meant at the time. It makes sense now, though… Does the rest of her family know about you?"

"No, and we're going to keep it that way," Scott said urgently. "They know about Derek, though, obviously."

"So let me get this straight," Amy started, "You and Derek are 'good' werewolves, and Derek's uncle is evil? I can't believe how ridiculous I sound…"

"That's basically right," Stiles answered.

"And the only other people who know about werewolves are me, Stiles, and the Argents?"

"And Jackson and my boss," Scott said sheepishly. "But yeah, as far as we know, those are the only people who are aware."

"Jackson knows? Jackson Whittemore?"

"Yes, unfortunately..."

She paused contemplatively for a moment; "Who bit you guys?" she asked.

"Derek's uncle bit me," Scott said, "And Derek was born like this."

"You can be born like this?"

"Yeah," Derek answered begrudgingly. He couldn't believe he'd been dragged into this. "It's more common than being bitten, actually."

"So your uncle… He's basically a crazed murderer?"

"No, not exactly… My uncle – Peter, his name is – he was really injured in the fire that killed the rest of my family and it took him a while to heal. Arsonists started the fire, and now he's determined to get revenge on everyone responsible. Somehow that janitor was involved, along with some others. My uncle is an alpha, which means he's like a werewolf on steroids, pretty much. Scott and I are betas, and therefore much less powerful."

"If those people killed your family," Amy reasoned slowly, "why aren't you on your uncle's side? Why are you helping Scott?"

"Peter killed my sister," he answered darkly.

"Oh," she stuttered, "I'm sorry to hear that."

Derek didn't respond.

"Yeahhh. But anyway, that's basically what's going on – that, and the Argents are hunting Derek and I need to make sure that Allison doesn't tell her family about me," Scott said.

"What's going to happen when your uncle gets back?" she asked Derek.

This time, Stiles answered. "We're trying to see if we can get Derek to become an alpha. Right now, there's an opening since his uncle is gone. That, or we're looking for other friendly werewolves that might agree to help us… That last one isn't the_best_ of plans, but it's all we've got."

"Are there other werewolves living here?"

The other three looked at one another tentatively. "There have been traces," Derek started, "Scents. But no actual evidence, no."

"How do you become an alpha?" Amy asked.

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Stiles answered.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Please review, and I'll have the next chapter up faster! :D<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: Yo yo yo, my friends! Sorry this took so long, I meant to get it up quicker but some things came up... I hope you can forgive me, I added extra Derek hotness as an apology ;)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

The four young people stood listlessly in Stiles' bedroom, the fluorescent lights bearing down harshly upon them. Amy became distinctly aware that they were hurting her eyes. There was a silence that seemed to stretch on forever, but it was broken soon enough by the hum of the garage door.

"Your dad's home," Scott alerted.

"Shit, shit, shit," Stiles chanted manically. He dove to the light switch and soon the room was pleasantly dark once again. "Derek, you have to hide behind the bed. God, what are we gonna do?"

"Calm down," Scott pressed, "We'll just tell him… We'll tell him that we got bored and came back."

"Oh God, oh God, but Amy's here too."

"So?" Scott asked.

"_So_, you don't think that's kinda weird? You, me, and Amy? No offense, but that's a hellova weird combination. He's going to know something's up. Even if we pretend to be sober. Oh god, oh god…"

"Chill out!" Amy hissed. "Just say that I was going to give you and Scott a ride home, but now we're staying over because it's too late. Tell him you didn't think we should drive in the late at night when there are a lot of drunk drivers on the road – parents love that crap."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe you should listen to her," Derek piped in, sitting up so that he could be seen.

All of a sudden, there was a knock at the door. "Stiles?" came the voice of Sheriff Stilinski.

Stiles inelegantly shoved Amy to the floor beside his bed, causing her to tumble directly onto Derek's half-clothed body. She would have ripped into him in protest, but she begrudgingly recognized the necessity for silence; so, she instead bit down hard on her lower lip, trying desperately to stop any sound from escaping her mouth. Derek's intense eyes stared directly into hers, and he did not look happy, but he too knew that they had to be quiet.

She glanced down subtly at his well-sculpted frame, only to see that his bullet wounds had completely healed. Though this made it easier to ignore the guilt she may or may not have felt for crushing him, it did nothing to lessen the urge to stare. She forcibly directed her focus on trying to ignore the ridges of his smooth, hard abs beneath the flimsy material of her clothing. A narrow band of flesh was exposed between her shirt and pants and was pressed flush to his lower torso, creating a warm sensation of skin-on-skin. She _really _wished he wasn't so attractive… She was sure her cheeks were bright red, but Derek was completely unfazed. Although, when she thought back to the moment (as she did many, many times) she could have sworn that she saw him _very _briefly peer down at her chest, which was squished against his. But perhaps she'd just imagined it.

"You guys are back?" Mr. Stilinski questioned, looking from his son to Scott, then back to his son.

"Yeah, we decided to head home earlier than planned," Stiles answered.

"You and Scott?"

"Yup."

"Then whose car is that in the driveway?"

Both Stiles and Scott hesitated nervously, and Amy reluctantly peeled herself off of Derek and emerged from her hiding spot.

"Hi, Mr. Stilinski," she said sheepishly.

"_Stiles_," was his reply.

"Dad, I can explain – "

"Please do."

"Well, you see, Amy was going to drop Scott and me off at home, I didn't think she should be out so late driving since there could be drunk drivers around at night. Plus, Scott's here too and she's just a _friend_. Can she _please_ stay?"

"Alright, but just this once," he answered begrudgingly. "And only because Scott is here too. You're not making a habit of this."

"Okay. Thanks, Dad!" he said hurriedly, ushering him towards the exit.

"Thanks, Mr. Stilinski," Amy added.

He nodded in acknowledgment and left the room.

"See, when I tell you to do something you should just listen," Amy said once the elder Stilinski was gone and the door was closed.

Stiles rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything.

"I still can't believe this is really happening," she said whilst plopping down on his bed. She kicked off her obscenely high heels and stretched languorously out so that she was taking up nearly the entire space.

"Make yourself at home," Stiles snorted.

"I think you broke my ribs," Derek complained gruffly as he stood and brushed himself off.

"Oh please," she retorted quickly, "Most guys wouldn't dare complain about having a tipsy, scantily clothed woman thrown on top of them."

The other two laughed at this comment; "She's got a point, dude," Scott said.

"Yeah, well maybe under different circumstances…" Derek trailed off.

"Hell, I'd take that under _any _circumstances…" Stiles retorted.

"We're not all as desperate as you are, Stiles."

Now it was Amy and Scott's turn to laugh.

"So," Amy began more seriously, "You guys are like really _werewolves_…"

"Yup," Scott answered bluntly.

"Are there other things besides werewolves?" she inquired.

Both Scott and Stiles directed their attention towards Derek; he was always the one to answer these sorts of questions.

"What do you mean?" he countered evasively.

"Like, vampires and stuff – do they exist, too?"

"… Yeah."

Amy let out a bark of laughter; "Oh my god, so technically Twilight could be real. That's depressing."

"No, no it couldn't. It's not like that, I promise you. Vampires are horrible, vicious demons."

"Are there any vampires in Beacon Hills?"

"Not that I know of… The biggest vampire haven in US is in this really random town in the South called Mystic Falls. But that's miles away, so there's really nothing to worry about. Vampires tend to crowd together, unlike werewolves. Werewolves travel in packs, but you'll never find more than one pack in one town. It just doesn't work that way."

"So," she continued, changing the subject, "you're trying to become an alpha. What does that even mean? Is it the same as in a regular wolf pack?"

"More or less. An alpha is the most powerful member of a pack. But with werewolves, an alpha is physically different from a beta. They're nearly unrivaled in their power; it would take multiple betas to kill an alpha, or, another alpha."

"Are you planning to kill your uncle?"

Derek turned his attention towards the ground; "He killed my sister," he started darkly, "The moment he took the life of someone within the pack, he renounced his right to be the alpha as far as I'm concerned. He is no uncle of mine anymore; he's nothing but a murderer who's out of control and needs to be stopped."

"Agreed," Stiles concurred grimly.

"So, how do you become an alpha?" Amy repeated.

"Well," Stiles answered, "regular wolves become alphas by killing off the pack's strongest leader. Usually an alpha has to be of a certain age and the strongest wolf in an area. But, like we said, Derek can't kill his uncle the way he is; not even with the help of Scott. But since his uncle is out of town, we're trying to find a way for Derek to become an alpha in while he's gone. Technically, Derek is the strongest wolf in Beacon Hills; at least, at the moment."

"But it's apparently not that simple," Scott added, "Or else he would have changed already."

"But there might be werewolves out there who'll help you?" she asked.

"Yeah," Scott answered, "Derek's uncle isn't being very discreet; we think we might be able to convince other werewolves to help us bring him down. The only problem is, we have to find some…"

"Is it really that hard? Don't you guys have a union or something?"

"No. People don't exactly advertise that they're werewolves, for obvious reasons," Derek answered bluntly. "Way back when, the only werewolves you'd be likely to meet were those within your own family or those bitten by family members. If you met other packs, things would get ugly. There's still rivalry between different packs, but things are becoming a little more modernized."

"So, how can I help?" Amy asked.

"By making sure Argents don't find out about us," Scott answered quickly. "You _did_ say that you live next door to them."

"Should I tell Allison that I know?"

"You can say that you know about me, but don't mention anything about Derek."

"Plus, you can keep a look out for anything that might indicate that there are other werewolves in Beacon Hills," Stiles added.

"That's it?"

"Trust me, you don't want to get any more involved than you already are," Derek said.

"This is so weird," she said finally. "But also so cool!"

Scott rolled his eyes and Derek smirked and said, "Oh, you just wait. You won't be saying that for long…"

"This is so much better than living in San Francisco," she continued, ignoring them, "I traded my senior year with my friends to hang out with a group of werewolves… I'd say it's an even trade."

"Amy, shut up and go to sleep," Stiles said, "And _not _in my bed."

"Hey, I'm a girl. You guys are supposed to be gentlemen."

"Well, maybe I could join you," Stiles joked suggestively, waggling his eyebrows.

"I'm not that drunk anymore, sorry," she said dryly. "Although _Derek_," she joked.

"Not looking to get arrested, sorry."

"Hey, I'm eighteen! Perfectly legal. Plus, you're _already_ a fugitive, anyway."

"You're eighteen?" Scott asked.

"Yeah, I was held back in kindergarten," she answered.

"Why?" Stiles laughed.

"I missed too much school. I got really sick and I had to repeat the year. I almost died, or at least that's what my parents tell me."

"Too bad," Stiles said. "Will you at least give us the pillows, then."

"Fine," she allowed, chucking them off the bed.

"Am I _really_ sleeping on the floor of my own bedroom?" he asked rhetorically.

"You would really make little old me sleep on the ground?" Amy asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes and poking out her bottom lip. "Plus," she added in her normal voice, "there's a carpet. It's not _that_ bad."

"If either of you keeps complaining," Derek threatened, "I'll see to it that you have the wonderful experience of sleeping in the dirt in the middle of the woods."

"Whoa there, buddy," Amy said, "No need to get so snappy."

"Shut up and go to sleep," Derek growled, "I know you may not realize this, but getting shot multiple times can take a lot out of you."

"_Fine_," she agreed churlishly. Finally, she squeezed her eyes shut and squirmed under the covers of Stiles' bed. They all fell asleep surprisingly quickly.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Hope you all liked it! I know that you guys were itching for some DerekAmy, so I hope this satisfied you a bit... I can't move things along **_**too**_** quickly, otherwise it won't be plausible... Amy's being a little more flirty than usual because she's still not quite herself... Anyway, you'll notice that I referred to a bunch of different shows/books. For those of you who watch The Vampire Diaries, I'm sure you recognized the shout out to Mystic Falls. For some reason, I just feel like Beacon Hills and Mystic Falls are in the same universe. So there you go! Please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note: I know I said that I would get the last chapter up really fast but I never actually did, so I decided to post this next one quickly instead. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, I really can't believe we've already reached 100! It's crazy! Thank you all so much, I'm so lucky to have such great readers. I hope everyone likes this chapter :-)**

**Also, since I can't PM you, thanks to marina, Hina, E, and K!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

The next morning, Amy awoke with a start. At first, she had no idea where she was. The sun had just barely risen, and was peaking through Stiles' open window. She saw a figure blocking the light; it was Derek, perched on the widow sill.

"What are you doing?" she croaked tiredly. She could barely keep her eyes open and her head was pounding; she looked a mess, with her hair sticking up every which way and her makeup smeared disastrously.

"Leaving," Derek stated.

"Am I going to see you again?" she questioned faintly. There was no longing or desire in her tone, only curiosity. It was the first question that entered her mind, and in this hungover state she could barely discern between her dreams and reality.

"Probably, as unfortunate as that may be…"

"Mmkay, g'bye," she accepted, before groggily falling back against the mattress.

Without further ado, he jumped from the window and headed towards the woods.

A matter of hours later, Amy woke up once again; this time, it was to Stiles throwing a pillow at her.

"Mmph, stop," she mumbled, waving her hand agitatedly without opening her eyes.

"Get up, Amelia. It's ten o'clock," he said, "Scott's already downstairs devouring everything in my kitchen."

"Urgh, I feel awful…"

"I'm not surprised; you _look_ awful, too."

This comment successfully motivated Amy to shoot out of bed; in one swift movement, she seemed to first realize where she was and rushed into the bathroom. Even though she obviously wasn't interested in Scott or Stiles, she still didn't want to look completely hideous in front of them. They weren't quite at that level yet… When she was finished making herself even vaguely presentable, she trudged downstairs and met up with her two male companions.

"Do you have any coffee?" was the first thing she asked Stiles.

"Yeah, my dad made a pot earlier this morning… You can go ahead and have some, there are mugs in the cabinet."

As she helped herself to the glorious caffeinated beverage, she asked, "So, how are you guys feeling."

"I feel fine," Scott said cheerily.

"Yeah, me too," Stiles agreed.

"Dammit… I didn't do anything _too _stupid last night, did I?"

"Don't you remember? You weren't _that_ drunk," Scott rationalized.

"Oh no, I remember… For the most part. I mean, some things are a teeny bit hazy, but remember mostly everything; especially the stuff from later in the night."

"You were coming on to Derek like a cat in heat…" Stiles mumbled under his breath.

Amy spat her coffee back into the mug in horror; "_What_?" she demanded.

"He's exaggerating," Scott interjected, rolling his eyes.

"I remember flirting with him _kind of_, but it was hardly anything," she reasoned, trying desperately to keep calm.

"You invited him to sleep in my bed with you," Stiles stated frankly.

"I was _joking_. Didn't I sound like I was joking?"

"It could have gone either way…"

"Dude, I really don't think you're making her feel any better…"

"Oh my god," Amy complained, rubbing her temples, "Why does this always happen to me…"

"Always?" Stiles asked in amusement, cocking an eyebrow.

"Never mind. God, I can't believe I did that…" she whined remorsefully.

She was, admittedly, accustomed to the feeling of embarrassment after a night of drinking (not that it had happened _too _often), but usually the victims of her flirtatious attitude were people who could easily be avoided. However, she knew for a fact that she would be having further contact with Derek in the future, which meant that he would forever think of her as "that slutty drunk girl" that everyone secretly knows but no one calls out to her face.

"You certainly made a terrific first impression," Stiles said; he seemed to be able to read her thoughts.

"It's okay," Scott said in an attempt to quell her anxiety, "I'm sure he didn't think anything of it. It was pretty funny. And he didn't seem _too _bothered, which is actually a big accomplishment when it comes to Derek; he hates everyone."

"Great," Amy grit out sarcastically, taking another long swig of her black coffee; she didn't like the taste, but her head was throbbing and there was a dull pain behind her eyes and caffeine seemed like her only salvation. She'd had worse hangovers, to be sure, but the distinct sense of humiliation added a particularly potent sting to her pre-existing discomfort.

And Derek was hot. _Really_ hot. It was perfectly logical that she should have tried to hit on him while she was drunk… But now, everyone _knew_ what she thought of him, including the man in question himself. This situation just served to make things… awkward.

"I'm gonna go home," she said finally, after rinsing out her mug in the kitchen sink. "You'll let me know if there are any new developments, right?"

"I guess," Stiles replied.

"Yeah, we'll text you. Don't expect anything to happen though," Scott said, "This has been a pretty slow-moving process. We've been trying to figure all this out since the middle of the summer."

"Okay. Talk to you guys later, then," she said before stepping out of the front door.

* * *

><p>When Amy returned home, her mother's smiling face greeted her upon her entrance. The teenager felt a faint tinge of guilt tug at her heartstrings, but she was quickly able to repress the sentiment.<p>

"Did you have fun at Lydia's, honey?" she asked.

"Yup, I had a blast. We watched The Notebook and The Hangover and ate a ton of ice cream and popcorn."

"That's good… Well, I'll let you go take a shower."

"'kay," she replied, starting upstairs.

After her shower, Amy walked from the bathroom to her bedroom clad in a beige plaid robe. Feeling wholly refreshed, she used her towel to wipe the excess water from her long, dark hair and shut the door behind her. When she turned around, to her great surprise and dismay, she saw Derek seated on her queen-sized bed.

She was about to scream, but he rushed over to her at an inhuman speed and clamped his hand over her mouth.

"We don't want your family coming up here," he explained in a low, raspy voice, "And we _especially_ don't want the neighbors hearing."

He was distractingly close, and her back was pressed against the hard wood of the door. Derek tried to ignore the _thump_ of her accelerating heartbeat; she was afraid, but there was something else affecting her. He had a feeling that their proximity had something to do with it. He'd been in situations like this before, and he knew all too well where such positions could lead. Amy had made her attraction to him quite clear the previous night. He, for one, was greatly thankful that he had caught her coming out of the shower, because the lavender soap she had used was successfully masking the scent of her pheromones. He was, after all, only half human, and he couldn't deny that he found her at least mildly attractive.

When it was clear that she would remain silent, he removed his hand and allowed her to speak. However, he did not back away. Amy was sure that she had never encountered a pair of eyes so blue.

"What are you doing here," she hissed.

"I came to tell you something that I couldn't say in front of the others."

"Which is…?" she pressed.

"If you so much as _breathe_ a word of this to anyone – and I mean _anyone_ – I will see to it that you severely regret it. You probably think I'm one of the 'good guys,' since I'm helping Scott and Stiles, but I can be just as evil as the rest of them when my position is threatened, understood?"

"You can trust me," she assured him, frightened.

"We'll see. You have no incentive to keep quiet, though, so now I'm giving you one," he said coarsely. His tone was barely a dull growl.

"They're _my_ friends too, you know," she said somewhat agitatedly.

"You just moved here. You can't possibly feel the type of loyalty that would merit you knowing Scott's secret - _my_ secret. It was a mistake for them to tell you."

"You didn't stop them," she retorted, gaining courage.

"How could I? What else would have stopped you from telling the police?" he replied darkly; his mesmerizing eyes scanned her from head to toe, quickly making her wish she were wearing something more alluring than a bathrobe. "But I don't think they would take to me threatening you very kindly. _I, _personally, would have just killed you to keep you quiet… But I didn't think that idea would fly with the other two."

"Agreed," she snapped wryly. She didn't believe him. Scott and Stiles had been very insistent that he _wasn't_ a killer. He didn't seem to even want to kill his homicidal uncle; she found it difficult to accept that he wouldn't think twice about murdering an innocent girl. She finally built up the guts to put her hands flat against his taut chest and deliver a firm shove. He backed away smoothly, as if she hadn't even touched him.

"That was a pretty good try, but you don't really scare me. Whatever you are, you're obviously more in control than Scott is. And Scott wouldn't hurt a fly. So you can just drop the big macho act, because I'm not buying it."

"... I don't think you have any idea how stupid you'd be to believe that I wouldn't hurt you. And I think we established last night that Scott could do a lot more damage than 'hurting a fly.'"

"Whatever you say," she dismissed. "I'm usually a pretty good judge of character, and you don't exactly seem evil to me."

He didn't seem to know how to respond, so he stayed quiet.

"Sorry I acted like such a spaz last night, by the way," she said eventually, rummaging through her dresser.

"Are you _apologizing_?" he asked in disbelief.

Even she had to admit, it _was _a bit odd; just moments earlier he'd threatened her life, and now _she _was apologizing to _him_.

"I just don't want you to think that I'm always like… _that_…" she continued, trailing off.

"Hey, I get it – you were just blinded by my charm. Don't worry, you're not the first; there's no need to apologize."

"Yeeeah, no. I just don't want to you to think I'm attracted to you, because you're a complete douche. I think maybe I should be apologizing to myself for ever even _looking_ at an asshole like you."

"I'm crushed," he said sardonically.

"Okay, well, you've made yourself clear or whatever… Now can you please take your empty threats and leave so I can get dressed?" she demanded irritably.

"I'd rather stay," he taunted. The fact that she apparently now hated him made him infinitely more comfortable with her.

Amy picked up a stray shoe from her floor and hurled it at Derek. It narrowly missed him, and hit the wall beside his head.

"Fine, I'm going," he said with an evil snicker. Without further ado, he went over to her window and jumped out.

She couldn't believe that he could so easily fall from the second story of her house and walk away safely; she rushed to the window and looked down, only to see him running away at an alarming speed. Watching him leave was a relief.

"Oh my _god_," she murmured to herself as she pressed her hand to her heart. It was beating rapidly. If Derek's mere presence could affect her so much, she wondered if it was a good idea that they ever even meet again. Her blood pressure was about to skyrocket through the roof. She knew this was unreasonable, though, and that she would be seeing him fairly soon; sooner than she might think, even, for he apparently had a penchant for showing up unexpectedly and unannounced.

Pushing these concerns out of her mind, Amy took out her phone; she had three missed calls from Allison, and a text that read: _whats going on with you? are you ok?_

She sighed deeply; she and Allison had a _lot_ to talk about. She called her, and the other girl answered after only one ring.

"Hello? Amy?"

"Hey, Al."

"Oh my god, are you all right? You just disappeared last night, I was so confused!"

"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry… I went back to Stiles' house."

"You _what_?" she demanded, her voice dripping with shock.

"No, no, no, nothing like that! There was some emergency and he needed to get home. I don't know what it was, though, he didn't tell me."

"So you stayed over there?"

"Well, yeah…"

"Just you and Stiles?"

"Uh, Scott was there too. The only reason I stayed was because I couldn't drive, and Stiles couldn't really either. Scott was the one who drove us back... Look, Allison, we should really talk… But not on the phone – in person."

"I would invite you over, but I'm grounded – the police busted the party last night and needless to say my parents were not happy."

"Ouch… I'm sorry, that really sucks."

"Yeah. You're lucky you were able to leave before they came. But I'll talk to you at school on Monday… What's the matter? Is it something really important?"

"No, it can wait. I'll see you on Monday."

"Okay, sounds good. I'm glad you're okay... Talk to you later!"

"Okay, bye."

Amy hung up the phone and tossed it on her bed. She anxiously ran her hands through her hair and sighed. As cool as this new discovery was, she was already beginning to see just how complicated it could make her life.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: I hope you all liked it! Pretty please review :-) I'm trying not to lay the DerekOC on too thick, but I realize that I can't make this go at a snail's pace... Their relationship, as of now, is more that they just find each other physically appealing. However, rest assured, things will become much deeper as the story progresses.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note: As always, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! Some of guys' comments really crack me up. I'm really happy that for the most part you seem to like Amy so far - I feel like she could fill a void for that sort of "everyman" character. Stiles kind of serves that purpose for guys, but neither Allison nor Lydia is very normal and I feel like they could use an average female character on the show.**

**Anyway, I hope you all like this chapter! Also, I'm _dying _to see tonight's finale...**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

At school on Monday, the first thing Amy did was turn in her (and Stiles') lab report.

"When do we get them back?" Stiles asked urgently as his partner handed the stapled papers over to Miss Hazeltine.

"Probably on Friday, at the earliest," the blond replied, "I have a lot of them to grade, so no sooner than that."

"Okay," Stiles said, before the pair of them headed back to their desk. "You got the rest of the week to figure out how you're going to get Lydia to go out with me," he whispered to Amy once they were seated.

"I said I would _mention_ you to her, not get you a date," she hissed back.

"I swear to God, if you go back on your promise – "

"_Mr. Stilinski and Miss Bell_," Miss Hazeltine interrupted harshly, "apparently this project has brought the two of you closer, but if you continue to talk in my class I'll see to it that a sufficient distance is put between you once again."

"Sorry, Miss Hazeltine," Amy mumbled, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. She directed her attention downwards to her textbook; she hardly ever got in trouble in class, and hated the feeling of being reprimanded.

As retribution, she stomped on Stiles' foot underneath the table. He dug his teeth into his lip to keep from crying out in pain. "You're a bitch," he hissed. Amy turned her head and smiled at him sweetly, but didn't say anything.

Later in the day, when it came time for lunch, Amy urged Allison to sit outside with her and eat.

"What about Lydia?" she asked.

"We'll just tell her that we had to work on something for school. This isn't something she can hear."

"Amy, what are you talking about?" she asked in a pressing whisper.

"I think you know, judging by your tone. It's about Scott."

"Oh my God, you know…?"

"Yeah."

"_How_ do you know?" she asked once they were sitting alone in the grass.

"He told me."

"What?"

"Well I kind of walked in on something and he was forced to tell me. He told me about your family, too."

"You walked in on him… changing?"

"Yeah… It was… scary."

"So now you know," she said simply.

"Yup. Now I know."

"So you see now what the problem between me and Scott is, then."

"But your family doesn't know about him," she reasoned.

"Yeah, but the longer we're together the more likely it is! If he's not around, the risk of them finding out is infinitely less."

"Does your family know that you know about werewolves?"

"Yeah, my aunt is the one who told me – she showed me Derek Hale – he's a werewolf too, by the way. She had him chained up and she was torturing him. I know… I know that they're supposed to be monsters, but the way he looked at us… It was just… wrong. They're still alive. They're still _human_, or at least part of them is. I can't do it. I can't kill them, like my family does. I'm not cut out to be a hunter - to be a _murderer. _My aunt especially is just indiscriminate. She thinks that they're all bad, but they're not – they _can't _be. I mean, look at Scott. He's one of the sweetest guys I've ever met. There's no _way _he could be a killer. It may be in their nature, but they can control it. I understand that the bad ones need to be stopped, but Scott isn't one of the bad ones and I know that if my family finds out about him they won't care either way. They'll kill him."

Amy took a moment and allowed all of this information to sink in. Allison was absolutely right, judging by what she'd seen so far. Scott didn't really scare her at all, and Derek – though he tried to be menacing – hadn't quite succeeded in convincing her that he would actually kill her if the need arose. Sure, they both had the _potential_ to be vicious murderers, but they weren't a danger as long as they were able to control. They weren't misguided, like others might be. Like Peter Hale was.

In fact, _they_ were the ones who seemed the most afraid. They were the ones being hunted; not only by the Argents, but also by their own kind. By Derek's uncle, the alpha. _They_ were the ones being driven to secrecy. Amy soon understood what Scott had meant when he said that being bitten ruined his life. Hell, Derek's entire family was killed because of what they were. If that wasn't a model display of societal ignorance, she didn't know what was. He was being persecuted for something he couldn't help - the whole thing was the very definition of discrimination.

What the Argents were doing was inefficient; if they took the time to figure out which werewolves were good and which were evil, they could team up with Derek and Scott to bring down Peter Hale. Together, they could much stronger than they were apart.

"What are you thinking?" Allison asked curiously.

"Just how right you are," Amy answered slowly. "I wish we could help them…"

"Them?"

"Scott and Stiles," the other girl clarified hastily.

"Oh. Yeah. Well, I've been listening to what my family's says about the Alpha – they say he's left because there haven't been any killings in months."

"And the Alpha is Peter Hale?"

"Yeah. Derek wasn't really the one who killed those people to begin with… But my aunt's still out to get him no matter what. For some reason, she really wants him in particular; she thinks he's the key to catching his uncle."

"Why?"

"Because all of the victims were somehow involved in the Hale fire, and she says that Peter's out for revenge. Doesn't it make sense that Derek would want to help him?"

"Yeah, I guess..."

"But," Allison added, "Peter's the one who killed his sister. So it could go either way… We really don't know where Derek's allegiances lie… But that's not her first concern – her first concern is where to even find him."

"Do you have any idea where he might be staying?"

"He's gotta be traveling," she reasoned, "It's not safe for him to stay in one place."

"That makes sense, but where could he be staying? I don't think anyone's likely to house an alleged murderer…"

"True," she said; her voice dropped even lower. "_Although_, I wouldn't completely rule out Scott…"

"Scott?"

"Yeah; yet another reason we can't be together… What if she somehow traces him back to Scott's house? What then?"

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"No," she said darkly, "He knows how I feel about Derek; _and _how Derek feels about me. He would never admit to even contacting him, let alone helping him."

"So, do you think Derek's good or bad?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly, "I mean, on one hand I want to believe that he's innocent, that he can be trusted. I saw the way he looked at my aunt when she captured him. There was nothing sadistic about it. He didn't want to kill her, he just wanted to be left alone. But then again, his entire family was murdered. Think about what that could do to a person… It makes sense that he would want revenge, even if he has to cooperate with his uncle to get it."

"Wouldn't he want revenge against his uncle, too?"

"Yeah, but that could come later. I really don't know. I just wish we didn't have to deal with any of this."

"I'm so sorry, Allison. This must be really hard for you."

"Yeah. You were right when you said that I had to choose between Scott and my family. The thing is, I don't know if I can completely trust _either_ of them. I think they're both keeping secrets from me, and I hate it. One thing I do know, though, is that I can't let anything happen to Scott because of me. I wouldn't be able to deal with it if – if something ever happened to him. Not only the guilt, but just the thought of never being able to see him again is too much to bear."

"I'm sure it won't come to that – as long as Scott lays low, everything should be fine."

"But they're searching for a second beta – they know one's out there, they just don't know who it is."

"That doesn't mean they'll ever find out," she tried.

"Yeah, but they'll have more of a chance if he keeps hanging around with Derek. I understand that the Alpha is trying to find him, but if he just lets my family deal with it I honestly think that they can take him down. Then Scott will be free and he doesn't have to put himself in danger."

"Yeah, you're right... We should go, though, class is starting soon," Amy suggested.

"Okay," the other girl agreed, "I'm glad we had this talk, and I'm even more glad that you actually know about what's going on – I finally have someone I can talk about this stuff with… It's really been killing me. I've been feeling so alone and the only one I could really say anything to was Scott."

"I'm happy I can help; you know I'm always here for you," she said as they walked back to the school.

"Thanks," Allison said as they parted ways in the hall.

* * *

><p>As Amy and Ian drove home from school, her brother asked, "How did you manage to not get busted at Lydia's party on Friday?"<p>

She turned to him in shock, but quickly had to resume focus on the road in front of her. "How do you know about the party?" she demanded.

"I may not have many friends," he started, "But I'm not deaf. The stupid lemmings couldn't get over it – it was the biggest thing that happened this weekend... I _know_ you were there. The police busted it and took down everyone's names. But you were obviously not one of those people, otherwise you'd be dead right now."

"I went to Stiles' before they came," she admitted finally. "You _better_ not tell Mom and Dad I was there!"

"Why shouldn't I? I do so love it when they punish you," he said fondly.

"I'll just deny it. Like you said, evidence indicates that I wasn't there."

This comment momentarily shut him up. "So, is Stiles like your boyfriend or something," he asked disparagingly.

"Ew, no. We're not really even friends… We're just lab partners."

"Then why were you at his house on Friday night? Why would you lie to Mom and Dad about being there if it was an innocent encounter."

"Just _because_, okay. Just drop it."

"Everyone in the school thinks you're dating," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Everyone in the school?"

"Well, the freshmen at least. The girls talk about the seniors like they're part of some sort of soap opera or something. It's disgusting."

"I didn't realize you paid attention to gossip," she quipped.

"Usually I don't, but my ears perk up when I hear anything that could potentially get you into trouble." He was both kidding and not-kidding all at the same time.

"Lovely," Amy drawled sarcastically.

She was getting sufficiently tired of having people assume that she and Stiles were a couple. _If I can get Lydia to date him_… she thought darkly. Yet another incentive to play matchmaker.

When they were home, Amy sighed deeply and took out her phone; _do you want to get coffee after school tomorrow, _she texted to Lydia.

If her plan worked, Stiles was going to owe her big time.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Sorry, no Derek in this chapter! We'll be seeing him again soon, though, don't worry! Pretty please reviewwww? I love hearing from all of you :D<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: Muchos gracias to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! What did everyone think of the season finale?**

**********SPOLIERS:**

**To be completely honest, I'm really glad that they killed off Kate and Peter. Those were my two least favorite characters. Also, I loved the scene when they took down Peter - I thought it was really cute that they all worked together (omg I'm so sappy)... Haha my other favorite scene was when Stiles guessed Scott's password:**

**"His username is Allison... His password is also Allison."**

**"Still want him in your pack?"**

**Haha I died. I was trying to guess one of my friends passwords once; she had just gotten two golden retrievers so I guessed "golden retriever." That was the password...**

**Anyway, I hope you all like this chapter! There's lots of Derek-y goodness.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

"So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about," Lydia said dryly. She had put on her characteristic façade of boredom after purchasing her chai latte and sitting across from her brunette companion. They were at the same coffee shop they'd visited on the day they first met.

"Okay, I have a proposition for you," Amy began tentatively, "You might not like it at first, but just hear me out."

"I'm listening," she said dismissively.

"Alright, so. You and Jackson are broken up. It's been _how_ long since you've last gone out on a real date? Random hook-ups don't count. It's been too long for a rebound, so you're in the market for a real boyfriend at his point. Here's where my suggestion comes in – you could go with two options. The normal option, which is try to find someone better than Jackson. But let's be real, here; Jackson's hot as hell, rich, and has a frickin' beautiful ride. You'll be hard-pressed to find someone who's better than him, if I'm being frank."

"Wow, I can already tell that this is going to be a really convincing argument," she interjected sarcastically.

"Okay, okay, I'm getting to the point. But here's the other option; the _unexpected _option. You could date someone, who, to the untrained eye, appears inferior to Jackson. Not a slight step down, but a large one. To the point where everyone knows you can do better and they're confused as to why you would choose to date said person in the first place. It would be so shocking that it would draw a lot of attention to the relationship; it would be like a slap in the face to Jackson in the sense that it'd seem like you hold the two of them in the same caliber."

"That's certainly an interesting plan," Lydia admitted, "But I'm not sure if I like it. I have a feeling you have someone very specific in mind."

"Uh, yeah… How about Stiles Stilinski?"

"_Stiles?_ Oh my god, what? I thought the two of you had some sort of weird _thing_ going on."

"Ugh, _no_. Why does everyone think that?" she demanded unhappily.

"Anyway, continue with your suggestion. This is actually really entertaining."

"Look, I'm sure you know that Stiles has this thing for you. And that it's been going on for a while, too. He's best friends with Scott, and Scott is threatening to overtake Jackson in the popularity competition that is high school. Plus, he's really smart. And, I mean, _maybe_ I _might_ have agreed to talk to you about him if we got a good grade on our lab report." _And I want people to stop thinking he and I are dating_, she added mentally.

"Your argument has many weaknesses," she started, "But I have to admit, I'm intrigued. And Stiles is teensy bit cute, in a dorky Peter Parker sort of way…"

"So you'll do it?" Amy asked in utter disbelief. She wasn't usually one to question her own success, but this seemed too good to be true.

"One date," she asserted firmly, "That's it. I'm not _all _bad."

"Oh my God, Lydia, thank you so much. You have no idea how happy he's going to be."

"Tell him to pick me up at eight on Friday night," she stated bluntly as she stood to leave, "If he's even a minute late, the deal's off."

"Okay, I'll tell him," she replied cheerily.

Immediately after she was alone in her car, Amy took out her cell phone and called Stiles.

"You'll never believe what just happened," she practically squealed.

"Oh my God, my ears… I'm not a girl, Amelia, don't talk to me like that."

"Okay, sorry. I guess I just won't tell you that YOU HAVE A DATE WITH LYDIA FRIDAY NIGHT AT EIGHT O'CLOCK, douche bag."

"WHAT?" he screamed into the phone. Now it was Amy's turn to wince at the noise.

"You heard me." Her huge grin was preventing her from speaking normally.

"I think I love you," Stiles deadpanned.

"Now, now, save that for Friday."

"Amy, we didn't even get our grade back yet!"

"I know, I was feeling generous."

"I don't even know what to say."

"A 'thank you' would work just fine."

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"You're welcome. She even called you cute..."

"_Cute_?" he sounded ecstatic.

"Yeah, she said, 'he's cute in a sort of dorky Peter Parker way,' or something like that."

"Dude, Peter Parker is fucking Spiderman. How much more baller can you get than Spiderman?"

"Not much, Stiles, not much. Unless of course you're Batman or something... _Anyway. _So, eight o'clock on Friday. You're picking her up."

"Okay. Eight o'clock on Friday. Got it. Wait, wait, _no_ goddammit."

"What?"

"Friday's the full moon."

"So? _You're_ not a werewolf."

"Yeah but I have to watch Derek."

"What? Like babysit?"

"Yeah, kinda… What we do is every full moon Allison watches Scott and I have to watch Derek by default."

"Why?"

"Just to make sure they don't do anything stupid."

"Can't Derek take care of himself?"

"Yeah, for the most part. But I don't know, he's been in big trouble with the Argents after him and such… He needs someone there with him in case something happens. Wait, wait, _someone_ – I got it! _You_ could do it. It doesn't have to be me."

"_Me_?"

"Yeah, it'll be fine. Great. No trouble at all."

"I'm hardly equipped to handle that sort of thing."

"Nah, Derek's easy – Scott's the hard one. _Please _can you do it?"

"I'm already helping you," she whined.

"Aw c'mon, Amy, you said you wanted to be a part of this, didn't you? Plus, he won't be as bad for you – Derek will be calmer with you. For some bizarre reason, I seem to get on his nerves. Which results in pain. Lots of pain. On second thought, can you _always _watch Derek?"

"I'll do it, but just because I'll look like a tool if you can't go after I went through all of this trouble to get you a date."

"Sweet, really? Thank you so much, dude, seriously. I've been waiting my entire life for this opportunity."

"Yeah, yeah, try not to sound so desperate. I've gotta go, but I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Okay, cool. See ya."

_What have I gotten myself into_, Amy thought as she pulled into her driveway.

* * *

><p>Friday came faster than Amy wanted or expected. That morning, she and Stiles entered Biology class to see that they had received an A on their lab report.<p>

"I told you," he muttered to her as they took their seats.

"Hey, I came through for you too, didn't I?" she replied.

"Indeed, you did," he allowed with a grin. He was nearly jumping in his seat, he was excited for his date with Lydia. Amy had since softened greatly to Stiles and his quirks, and thus couldn't help but be amused by his behavior. He was acting like a kid on Christmas Eve.

Directly after school, she dropped Ian off at home and headed to Stiles' house. He was at lacrosse practice, but he'd left the door unlocked so she could let herself in. It felt extremely strange walking into someone's house while they weren't there, and she tried to be as quiet and un-disruptive as possible. God help her if his father came home… But technically, his work didn't end until five and he always worked overtime. She was fairly confident that she would remain undiscovered. Just as a precaution, she'd parked her car a few blocks away so that if Sheriff Stilinski _did_ indeed come home early, she could hide her presence.

She sat on the foot of his bed and took out her phone. _where are you?_ she texted Derek.

She sat in silence for a few moments, before there was a rush at the window.

"What the hell!" she shrieked; it was Derek.

"Got your text," he announced, stepping down from the windowsill.

"How'd you get my number?"

"Stiles gave it to me."

"I really don't need to be watched like some sort of child," he said sulkily.

"Well, Stiles insisted. Believe me, I don't want to be here either. But I don't know enough about this stuff yet to make my own decisions, so I'm just going to listen to what he tells me."

"You could just listen to _me_," he reasoned.

"Yeah, but I trust Stiles over you – _Stiles_ didn't threaten my life."

"You know that was for security purposes…" he started.

"Somehow, that really doesn't matter to me," she interrupted.

"Anyway," he said, changing the subject, "Why are you so early? We have hours until it gets dark."

Amy shrugged, "I don't have anything better to do, and, judging by the amount of time it took you to respond, neither do you."

"Well, I tend to spend the majority of my time trying to _not_ get arrested…"

"How's the search for other werewolves coming?"

"It's pretty dismal… Although, there might be someone… I think Scott's boss might be an omega."

"An omega?"

"Yeah, it's like a wolf without a pack."

"Are they powerful?"

"It really depends. Sometimes they're just as powerful as alphas, but sometimes they're even less powerful than betas. But I'm not even sure; it's just a hunch. He's not just an average guy, that's for sure."

"Can you ask him?"

"I guess, but I don't think he'll take kindly to me. He likes Scott, though, so I might have him do it. But even if he is powerful, it's unlikely that he'll get involved. If he's a powerful omega, there's a reason he doesn't have a pack. The last thing he's going to want to do is get tangled up with our problems and I won't be able to force him… But maybe he'll have some advice or something."

"I'm sure you could ask him yourself, as long as you don't get all 'psycho-killer' on him… Which you _do_ tend to do, I've noticed…"

"No, I've kind of, uh, _burned that bridge_, let's just say."

"Ah, so you've _already_ gotten all 'psycho-killer' on him, then…"

"It was necessary."

"I'm sure… Anyway, this is boring. What can we do – Stiles doesn't get back for another hour and a half."

"I could think of a few things…" he drawled suggestively.

Amy raised an eyebrow and _almost_ contemplated the idea. "No, not after the way you've treated me," she replied finally.

His demeanor changed entirely and he said, "Your heartbeat gives you away every time. But hey, I'll listen to you mouth and not your body, how about that? I'm a nice guy." Somehow, the way he said it suggested the complete opposite.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "You're an animal," she said facetiously.

This seemed to strike a nerve, for Derek's expression hardened frighteningly.

"_Kidding_," she amended hastily.

"Why do you even want to get involved in this, anyway?" he asked with surprising sincerity. "If I were you, I would stay the hell away from this mess. I don't get why you would willingly volunteer to be a part of it all."

"You were born a werewolf," she explained lightly, "So you probably don't really realize just how boring life can be. As long as I'm not bitten, no harm no foul, right? I have the most perfectly boring life – two overbearing parents, who love me more than I would like, and an obnoxious little brother. My life's like a modernized 'That's '70s Show.' My problems aren't really problems. My successes aren't really significant. When an opportunity like this presents itself, how could I turn it down? Plus, I can still walk away whenever I want…"

"You have no idea what I would give to have a life like yours. To have my old life back," he admitted darkly. "You'll realize how lucky you are soon enough – as soon as things get _messy_. You're the only one choosing this – everyone else was forced into it. Doesn't that say something?"

She shrugged; "I'll be able to form my own opinion soon enough. But Scott and Stiles and Allison especially are my friends. If they're involved in this, I kind of am too. Look at Stiles – he's not a werewolf, but he's still been dragged into the whole thing."

"I guess," Derek allowed.

"You know why Stiles isn't the one 'watching' you tonight, right?"

"Yeah, he has some date or something? Poor girl… I understand why he's so excited, though – this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for him."

Amy couldn't help but snicker.

Suddenly, Derek straightened his posture.

"What's the matter?" she asked, mildly worried.

"He's back."

"How could you tell? I didn't hear anything…"

"I can hear his engine sputtering. That Jeep has the distinctive sound of a crappy used car – not like a cop car, like what his dad drives. Believe me, I know _exactly_ how a cop car sounds."

"Let's scare him," Amy suggested deviously.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Yup. You go in the closet, I'll hide under the bed."

"I'm not hiding in the closest."

"Then hide under the bed," she insisted urgently. Their time was running out.

"No."

She heard his footsteps tramping up the stairs and quickly dashed into the closet, pulling Derek inside with her by the lapels on his leather jacket.

Stiles' closet was small. Very small. Amy found herself in the all-too-familiar situation of being pressed against Derek's chest, inhaling his scent. He smelled like pine trees, probably a result of spending so much time in the woods.

Her heart was beating so quickly that even _she_ could hear it. She desperately wished she were drunk again so things wouldn't be so awkward and deeply regretted her stupid plan to scare Stiles. She really needed to think things through before she acted… She was inclined to say that this was not a very good idea. But deep down, she knew she was lying to herself. She didn't regret it. She didn't regret it at all. What could a girl do? He was just so sexy... This was a _great_ idea.

"Now _this _is a type of game I could get used to," he hissed, grinning wolfishly.

Amy pressed her index finger to her lips.

A _click_ indicated that Stiles had opened his bedroom door. After she heard him throw his gym bag on the floor, she jumped out of the closet.

"BOO!" she screamed.

Stiles let out a yelp of surprise. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he shouted.

"Did I scare you?"

"Yes, goddammit! Don't do that, holy shit. I think my heart stopped beating for a moment there… Jesus… Wait, why were you _both_ in the closet?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Derek wasn't cooperating."

"Uh huh," he said slowly, "Well, I guess as long as it's not in my bed…"

"Ew, why are guys such perverts," she complained.

"Are you seriously asking that?"

"So," she continued merrily, "are you excited for your date with Lydia? Did that get some of the jitters out?"

"More than just jitters… I need to take a shower. Are you just planning on chillin' in my house? You know he can't change here…"

"We're going to _my_ house for that," Derek stated.

"Your house?" Amy questioned.

"Yeah, for when I transform. We can't stay here the whole time, obviously."

"Yeah, but is that safe? What if you attack me or something?" she asked in panic, "I don't want to be in the middle of nowhere!"

"He won't attack you," Stiles assured her. "This is more just to make sure that the Argents don't capture him again. He's been abducted by them far too many times, and it's a bitch to get him back."

"I don't need to be _protected_," he snarled.

"No, but if you're caught Amy can pretend you were attacking her or something and distract them. It's a win-win. Plus, if something goes really wrong she can always call me. Now get out of my room."

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><p><strong>Author's note: Okay, so looong chapter... Please review! Reviews=faster updates. This story has waaaaaay more hits than reviews... Also, I'd also like to hear you guys' thoughts on last night's episode!<strong>

*********SPOILERS:**

**One more thing! (sorry) Derek is the alpha! I was surprised that they did that. And also, as mistressofdarkness666 said, did Derek seem evil to you guys? Because he did to me... And this is really stupid of me, but I'm pissed that his eyes are red now and not that awesome blue they used to be... Ahaha these are the things that keep me up at night...**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's note: Holy crap, guys, thanks so much for all of the reviews! I loved reading what you all thought of the season finale... Haha I was glad to see that many of you agreed with my eye complaint (he definitely looks 1000000000x better with blue eyes...). Anyway, I hope you all like this chapter! I tried to crank it out as fast as possible without diminishing the quality.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

Just before Stiles was about to leave, he emerged from his bedroom and walked down to the kitchen where Amy and Derek were sitting.

"You can't wear _that_," Amy said disapprovingly.

"What's wrong with it?" he demanded. He was wearing a black Beatles t-shirt and a pair of dark-wash jeans. "This is what I always wear."

"Exactly. You need to put a little more effort into it," she reasoned. "Wear a lighter colored shirt and that jacket you have."

"What jacket?" he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"You know, that leather racing jacket."

"_Oh_," he said in realization. "I have to admit, I'm a little creeped out by your knowledge of my wardrobe."

"You wore it to school once," she replied defensively.

"You think I should wear that?"

"Yeah, take my word for it. I'm a girl, I know what she'll think looks best."

"Okay," he agreed, stomping back up the steps to his room.

When he was out of sight, it dawned on Amy just how bizarre her and Stiles' relationship was. They were friends, to be sure. But, while he annoyed her at first, she now only _pretended _to be annoyed by his antics. It was odd that she should feel the need to do such a thing, but she could never imagine being buddy-buddy with him. He was such a smartass that it seemed her only option was to be a smartass right back. But deep down, she genuinely liked him; and she suspected that he felt the same way about her. She was glad to have been able to get him a date with Lydia.

"That kid really is a piece of work," Derek commented almost as if he could read her mind. It seemed as if there might have been the smallest trace of fondness in his tone, but his perpetually surly demeanor successfully masked it.

"I hope this works out for him," she said earnestly.

Soon, he reappeared in the kitchen. "This?" he asked, putting his arms out as if he were on display.

"Much better," Amy stated.

"What do _you_ think, Derek," Stiles teased.

"I think the color goes great with your eyes," he replied sarcastically.

Stiles snorted inelegantly but said, "Well, I've got to go."

"That's right," she reminded, "You can't be even a minute late."

"Okay. Wish me luck!" he said as he stepped out the front door and shut it behind him.

"We should go, too," Derek said as he looked out the window. The sun was beginning to set, and Amy felt a knot of anxiety begin to form in the pit of her stomach.

"Okay," she agreed. "C'mon, I parked a couple of blocks down."

"How about we take my car," he suggested.

"_Your_ car?" She didn't even know that he _had_ a car.

"Yeah, follow me."

They went outside and walked down the street a ways, until the area became much less populated and they stood at the edge of the woods. As the pair continued further, a small clearing began to take shape; parked in the center of it was a jet-black Camaro.

"_This_ is your car?" she exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yeah."

"Oh my God, it's like the frickin' batmobile… It's a wolf-mobile."

"Please don't ever say that again…" he grit out as they opened the doors and stepped inside.

"Fine, Debbie Downer… Are you always this crabby, or is it only when you're PFMing."

"PFMing?"

"Yeah, pre-full-moon-ing. It's like PMSing, get it?"

"Yeah, I get it," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"They _do_ both happen once a month, you know."

"Okay, this conversation is over," he snapped uncomfortably. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm beginning to miss Stiles…"

"Okay, okay, sheesh I'm just trying to lighten the mood…"

Soon, they arrived at a ghostly structure in the middle of the forest. It had, at one point, been a house; but now, it was nothing more than a shell. The wood paneling was charred and dark, making it all the more eerie. He parked his car around the back, in a yellowed patch of grass. Everything – as far as the eye could see – looked dead. The sun was now halfway through the process of setting, and the sky had taken on a warm, orangey hue.

"Is it safe for us to be here?" she asked quietly. All playfulness had completely fled her tone.

"Yeah, no one comes out here and the police have already searched it."

"No, I mean like is it safe go inside? Couldn't it collapse or something?"

"Are you afraid?" he asked knowingly.

Amy, who saw that he'd expected this reaction, indignantly swallowed her fear. "No," she stated firmly, "I was just wondering."

"I suppose it _could_ collapse," he answered lightly, "But it obviously has yet to."

As they stepped up the desolate porch and towards the entrance, Amy couldn't help but experience a tremendous surge of compassion for Derek.

The damaged door creaked woefully as he pushed it open, revealing the dark, abandoned inside of the house. There were vague remnants of wallpaper clinging futilely to the walls, but the majority of, well, _everything_, had a grayish cast over it. Directly in front of them stood a wide staircase, which looked as if it was teetering on the brink of disintegration.

"How long has it been like this?" she murmured, trying to absorb the sight before her.

"Seven years."

"God, Derek, I'm so –"

"I don't want your pity," he interrupted venomously.

Amy's eyes widened, somewhat startled by his ferocity. His snapping at her was doing nothing to quell her fear that he might be a danger to her.

"Sorry," he stammered coarsely in response. "It's just… the full moon."

"It's all right," she mumbled. She glanced outside; it still wasn't completely dark.

"Derek, I really am sorry," she said as sincerely as she could. "I – I can't imagine this happening to me. It must be horrible – you really haven't done anything wrong at all, have you? And yet all these terrible things have happened for no real reason…"

"Yeah, it fuckin' sucks. Thanks for reminding me."

"I'm being serious," she insisted.

"I know you're being serious; I can _tell_ you're being serious. I just don't want to talk about it."

"Kate Argent used to be your girlfriend?"

"What?"

"That night," she explained, "You said that Kate was your psycho ex-girlfriend. Did you really used to date her?"

"Yes," he spat; it was such a simple statement, and yet so full of hatred. "It was just like Allison and Scott," he snarled resentfully. "I was young. I was naïve. And she was older. I couldn't believe that someone like her would ever want anything to do with me. It was too good to be true… Funny how things turn out. She was using me to get to my family, and she killed them all. She's the one who started the fire… Essentially, it's _my_ fault that they're dead."

"Don't say that… You couldn't have done anything to prevent it. You couldn't have known…" Amy was out of her depth with this one; while words of advice usually came easily to her, she had no idea what to say. She was so... insignificant in the grand scheme of things. She couldn't imagine that anything she said would have any meaning to him.

"But I should have... That was the start of a hard lesson: nothing ever works out for the best. If something seems good, odds are it's not real. I'm trying to help Scott, but he just can't see it; I'm trying to save him from what happened to me."

"Allison's different," Amy said.

"Yeah, that's what I thought about Kate."

Amy shot him a pained expression. The incident may have happened seven years ago, but she could tell that over those seven years this _blame_ – this self-hatred – had been fermenting, poisoning his mind and his ability to feel anything positive. It was no wonder why he was so sullen all the time; he was utterly alone. His sister and Peter had been his own remaining relatives, but now his villainous uncle was the only one left. He had lost literally everyone he had ever loved, either physically or figuratively.

"It'll be dark soon," he said finally.

"So, what are we going to do?"

"I can usually control myself pretty well," he stated. "I've never killed anyone, so I don't think you have much to worry about."

"Okay, okay, God. Somehow I don't really feel that reassured."

"I'll probably want to go outside, but you can't let me leave the house. The Argents patrol the woods every full moon, so we need to stay away."

"You don't think they'll come here?"

"No, it's too obvious. Plus, they're more focused on finding out who the second beta is… In the past, they've had a fair amount of success in trapping me; they'd rather save me for last… Although, Kate might break off and come here… I don't really know, it's hard to say."

"Wow, again, that's really reassuring…"

"Just don't let me leave, and don't run away from me because that will trigger the wolf. That's all you need to know. Got it?"

"Yeah," she answered nervously.

"Good," he hissed through clenched teeth, "Because it's starting."

Amy studied Derek carefully, and saw that his eyes were glowing a striking shade of icy blue. He put his clawed hands on either side of his head, covering his ears as if he was experiencing some horrible sound; however, he didn't really seem to be in pain. His lower jaw jutted out, giving her a full view of his changing canines. The bridge of his nose became sharper and snout-like, but not quite in the same way Scott's had. He also wasn't as hairy as Scott had been. However, it was mostly his face and hands that had changed, and his body remained very human.

When the transformation was complete, he stood completely still with a slightly crouched posture. He looked as if he might come after her.

"D-Derek?"

He growled and took a step closer.

"Derek."

Another step.

Amy began backing up, albeit very slowly.

"Derek," she repeated sternly.

But he continued to step forward and she continued to step backward. Soon, however, she was going to come in contact with the wall behind her. Eventually, she had nowhere else to go, just as she had foreseen.

"Derek, it's me, Amy," she squeaked as he cornered her.

He snarled again and stepped even closer. She had been in a close proximity with Derek before; but now things were entirely different. True enough, her heart was racing. Only this time, it was racing out of sheer terror.

Eventually, he was so close that they noses were almost touching and she could feel a rumbling of his chest as he growled. His electric blue eyes studied her intently, before he moved his head away from hers and towards her neck.

Amy stopped breathing, swallowed heavily, and scrunched her eyes shut; she had never been more afraid in her life.

He breathed in deeply, inhaling her scent.

"_Derek_," she murmured, the noise sending reverberations through her body. Her voice was so desperate and so low that it sounded almost like a whimper.

He finally pulled away and locked eyes with her again. Seemingly satisfied that she wasn't a threat, he backed up abruptly and began pacing the room.

All of a sudden, her phone started vibrating in her pocket.

"Shit," she muttered, quickly pulling it out; it was her mother.

Derek seemed distracted, so she took the risk of answering the phone.

"Hello?" she said.

"Hi, where are you?"

"I – uh – I'm at Lydia's."

"_Again?_"

"Yeah. I'm staying over…"

"Why didn't you tell me? You were just planning on not coming home tonight? Really, Amy, you know better than that. Your father and I were worried – we haven't heard from you all day!"

"I know, I know, sorry. Look, now's really not a good time…"

"_Excuse _me? I am your mother, young lady; don't 'now's not really a good time' me!"

_Crap_ "Sorry, Mom, but I really have to go. Love you, talk to you tomorrow, bye!"

She let out a breath of relief as she hung up the phone. Dealing with her mother the next morning would be an ordeal in its own right, but for now Amy resigned herself to focusing on the task at hand: watching Derek.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Let me know what you think of the interaction between Derek and Amy! Stay tuned to find out how Stiles' date went and if Amy will be able to survive Derek's transformation - and even more dangerous yet, the wrath of her mom...<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's note: Hello, everyone! As always, thank you so much to all of you who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you all like this one :-)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

By around five o'clock in the morning, Derek's transformation had run its course. Both he and Amy had stayed up all night, though he hadn't been a wolf for the entirety of the time; when the moon was concealed, he reverted back to his human form. However, these moments did not last long, making the night one of the most stressful Amy had ever experienced. However, other than their initial contact, Derek really didn't pay her much notice.

And, luckily, none of the Argents had showed up. She didn't know what she would have done if Kate appeared at Derek's doorstep and she answered; there would have been absolutely no plausible way to explain why she was there.

"Aren't you tired," Amy asked sleepily as he changed back to normal for a final time and looked out to the rising sun. "You were running and jumping and throwing things all night. You even punched a few holes in the wall."

"I'm used to it," he answered dismissively.

"I'm starving," she complained.

"I'm kind of hungry too," he agreed begrudgingly.

"Can we go somewhere to get something to eat?"

"You're forgetting that I can't show my face in public."

"Oh, yeah. Right. Well, I could go pick something up," she suggested.

"It's five in the morning."

"_Later_, I mean. I want to at least get a couple of hours of sleep…"

"And where do you plan on doing that?" he asked, raising one of his thick eyebrows.

"Can I sleep somewhere?" she pleaded.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, please? I stayed up _all night_ for you." She winced internally at how the last part had come off. It sounded almost... romantic.

"Fine," he agreed finally. "You can take my bed."

He led her upstairs. Sunlight streamed through splintered wood and Amy came to the conclusion that the Hale house was significantly less creepy in the morning. In the daylight, it was more sad than eerie. She didn't know how many people had perished in the fire, but, by the way Derek spoke of it, she surmised that it was more than just his immediate family. She couldn't even fathom enduring a pain so great – and to think, he blamed _himself_ for it. It certainly legitimized his bad attitude, to say the least.

He opened the door to his room and showed her inside.

"Thanks," she said.

"Yeah. I'm gonna go for a walk. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Yeah, it'll be fine. If I'm not back by ten, then you can start to worry. Here, I'll leave my car keys with you just in case." He dug them out of his pocket and placed them in her open palm. Amy felt a bizarre sort of electric spark shoot through her when his hands brushed hers.

"Thanks," she repeated

He was about to leave, but she stopped him. "Derek?"

"Can you – can you always remember everything that happens when you transform?"

"Usually. Although I admit, there are sometimes moments that are hazy if something really... intense... happens… Like a fight or something. But normally, yeah. I didn't do anything… _bad,_ did I?" He seemed vaguely worried, which surprised her.

"No, no, I was just wondering," she said hastily.

He made a move to leave, but again she stopped him. "Wait, one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

He shot her a puzzled look, before disappearing into the hallway. As he walked down the creaky staircase, he couldn't help but contemplate what had just transpired. She'd sounded – she'd sounded like she actually _cared_. It was strange; he hadn't heard that emotion in someone's voice in a while – in _years_, even. True enough, both Scott and Stiles had urged him to be careful in the past; but they never sounded like they actually meant it. They never sounded as genuine as Amy had. They put up with him because they needed information out of him; they needed his help. But Amy was there (more or less) on her own accord; she really didn't benefit at all from being around him, and yet she was still there.

However, he quickly shook these thoughts from his head. Mentally, she was still a child. She was naïve, and she didn't know what she was getting herself into. She would run at the first sign of trouble. _She didn't run last night_, contradicted a nagging voice in the back of his head. He ignored it; she would have plenty more opportunities to let him (and Scott and Stiles) down, and she would cave in eventually. That_,_ he was sure of.

Upstairs, Amy nuzzled into his pillow and breathed in the distinctive smell. Derek was being a bit more mild-mannered than usual this morning, but she attributed this to his being tired from the preceding events. _Too bad_, she thought, _I was almost starting to like him_. Amy did indeed feel very sorry for Derek, but had made it glaringly obvious that he didn't want anyone's sympathy. So, she would treat him just as she had before she'd known the details of the tragedy.

Four hours later, she awoke with a start to a knocking on the door frame. She scrambled into a sitting position and turned her head to see Derek.

"Did you have a nice walk?" she mumbled, bleary-eyed.

"Yeah. I hope you didn't drool," he commented menacingly.

"I didn't," she said with a sniff as she tried to compose herself. She crawled off of the bed and followed him outside without another word. When they reached the car, she gave him back his keys.

"Alright, let's go get food," he said bluntly, sliding into the driver's seat.

"Is it cool for you to drive your car around? Will people recognize it?"

"This town's not _that_ small. And as long as we don't pass any cop cars, we should be fine."

It dawned on her then that over the past few weeks her life had been filled with others telling her that everything would be "fine." Usually when people said that it was reason enough to believe that it really wouldn't be.

But, for some strange reason, she trusted Derek. Plus, he wouldn't do something to get himself into trouble, and if they _were _caught, she could always claim to be a hostage…

He parked in a deserted area of a drive-thru coffee shop and Amy stepped out of the car.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I don't care," he replied brusquely.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes; _typical._

Once inside, she ordered an ice coffee with milk and sugar and a plain bagel for herself. For Derek, she bought a bacon, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwich and a black coffee; he seemed like the type who would drink his coffee black.

When she got back in the car, she tossed him the logo-ed brown paper bag and put their coffees in the cup holders. He peered inside; "Interesting."

"It's what my brother always orders," she explained, "I didn't know what else to get."

"Whatever, I'm not picky," he said before taking a large bite. As she took out her bagel, he instructed, "Try not to drop any crumbs."

"I got you a coffee, too," she stated meekly, "Black."

He made a grunt of acknowledgement and took a swig from the Styrofoam cup. Amy took a sip of her own beverage and texted Stiles: _how did it go? _She sent the same message to Lydia.

"So, do you think you can drive me back to my car?" she asked when they were finished eating.

"Yeah," he agreed.

On their way back, Stiles replied, _started out kinda rough but by the end she seemed to be having a pretty good time.. she even kissed me_

_she kissed you? _Amy texted back, her fingers moving furiously.

A few moments later: _well on the cheek. but still._

"Stiles' date went well," she announced cheerily.

"Wow, because I care so much…" he replied dryly.

"Hey, be nice…"

Her phone vibrated again; this time, it was Lydia. _Eh._ was her only response. Amy replied with a question mark.

_He's sweet. I guess_, the redhead answered,_ Majorly dorky just like I thought though._

_are you going to go on another date?_

_We'll see… I covered for you btw. Your mom called. Where were you really last night?_

Derek sent Amy a sidelong glance as her fingers glided speedily over the screen of her phone. He smirked slightly at how enthralled she looked, but stopped as soon as he realized what he was doing.

Soon, they had reached her car.

She stood at the open door, struggling to find the words to say. "So, I – uh – I guess I'll see you later, then…"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Derek," she continued clumsily, "I just think it's important that you know something… I think it's important that you know that I'm only doing this because I want to. I honestly don't have any ulterior motives."

"Okay…" he started impatiently, "You done?"

"Y-yeah," she mumbled, frustrated at her inability to get through to him. "See you later," she repeated, slamming the door.

Befriending Derek Hale was not a task for the faint of heart.

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><p>When Amy returned home, she tried desperately to shirk her mother's notice and head straight to her bedroom. But she was not so lucky.<p>

"Amelia Marie Bell," her mother yelled from the kitchen, "Get in here right this instant!"

Amy winced and delicately tiptoed into the adjoining room.

"Yes?" she said as calmly as possible.

"Do you have any idea how worried your father and I were last night? You never do that, Amy. You never just disappear like that… What's going on with you? Ever since school started, you've been really distant lately."

"Sorry, I've just been busy," she explained, mentally searching to find a way out of the conversation. "Speaking of which… I have a paper that I should _really_ go work on…"

"No, no, no, that doesn't cut it. Something's up with you; what is it? Do you have a boyfriend or something? Is that what you're trying to hide?"

"Who said anything about 'hiding'?"

"You seem like you're hiding something… I know your father and brother can be obnoxious, but that's no reason to keep a boyfriend a secret from us. Sure, your dad might not like the idea, but he could get used to it…"

"I don't have a boyfriend, Mom," she said in irritation.

"Then what is it?"

"_Nothing_, honest! I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this!"

"I know about the party, Amy."

Amy's eyes widened to saucers. "_What_?"

"Victoria Argent mentioned it to me. I didn't tell your father, because we both know that he wouldn't take it well. I'm not going to punish you because you obviously left once you saw that there was alcohol there, _right_?"

"Uh huh, yeah, of course!" she stammered almost comically, "_Obviously_; that's why the police didn't take down my name…"

"Okay. And I understand that it can be hard to make friends, so you just went because all of your friends were there, _right_?"

"Yup!"

"All that aside, though, you still lied."

"Well, _technically_, I _was_ still at Lydia's…"

"Yes, but you certainly weren't having a movie night!"

There was a heavy beat of silence.

"I'm sorry, Mom… It's just, I _knew_ this was how you were going to react; you wouldn't have let me go, otherwise."

"Honey, you need to understand that your father and I set rules that are for your own protection. We don't do it to torture you or to make you miserable or anything like that; think if you _had_ been caught at that party – it would have gone on your record, and what would colleges say if they saw that, hm?"

"Okay, I see your point."

"I just don't want there to be any secrets between us."

Amy bit her lip nervously. "There aren't. Everything's fine. I'm fine. I'm not hiding anything, promise."

"Well… Okay," her mother replied; she didn't _quite_ look convinced. "I guess you can go… But this is never going to happen again, understood?"

"Yeah, got it."

As Amy walked away to get up to her bedroom, Ian popped out of his room to greet her.

"Darn, I was really expecting something much worse," he said in his most annoying tone.

"Shut up."

"Where were you _really_?" he questioned.

"I was at Lydia's!" she insisted.

"Tell me, where does Lydia live?"

"I don't know, not too far from here… Why?"

"Oh, I don't know… Did you, say, have to walk through the woods to get to her house? And is her house falling apart?"

"_What_?" she hissed.

"You have mud in your shoes, you smell like a Christmas tree, and you have a piece of burnt wood in your hair."

Amy was dumbfounded, to say the least. She knew her brother was smart, but she hadn't known that he possessed Sherlock Holmes-like deduction skills; it was quite the unnerving discovery.

"Like I said," he continued, "where were you _really_?"

"Lydia's!" she reiterated forcefully. She didn't stick around to hear his response, and instead angrily stormed into her room.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: I know you were probably hoping for more action during Derek's transformation, but if the Argents had showed up, shit would have really hit the fan (lol excuse the expression) and I feel like it's too early for that sort of chaos... Don't worry though, you will have plenty of drama in the future. And we'll also hear more about Stiles and Lydia's date in the next chapter. Pretty please review! Also, what do you all think of Ian? <strong>


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I know you all are probably getting really sick of me at this point, but I'm updating so quickly so that I can get up to a point were there's more action. I hope you all like this chapter!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

As the pair sat together on Monday morning, Amy told Stiles, "So, I want to hear every detail of your date on Friday."

"Shouldn't you be asking Lydia?"

"Somehow I feel you'll be more communicative."

"I thought girls were supposed to be the communicative ones," he shot back.

Amy pursed her lips in an attempt not to laugh. "Yeah, usually…"

"God, Amelia," he joked, "I'm sick of you treating me like one of your girl-friends. I am a man. A _manly_ man. And I would appreciate being treated as such."

"How about this," she proposed, "I'll treat you like a man the day you stop calling me Amelia."

Stiles let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head solemnly. "It appears that we have reached an impasse," he said with a grin.

"Scratch that – as soon as you stop quoting 'Spongebob.'"

"Hey, _you_ recognized it! You're not free from responsibility."

Amy snickered, but shut up as soon as Miss Hazeltine cleared her throat loudly, indicating that class was about to commence.

"We'll continue this later," she hissed.

After class ended (they were starting another dissection on Wednesday, yuck – this time it was a starfish. "Poor Patrick," Stiles had quipped), Amy resumed her interrogation.

"So, tell me everything."

"Well, I picked her up at eight, just like you said…"

"And?"

"_And_ she looked beautiful, as always. So I told her. And she seemed to actually like it."

"Aw."

"Yeah, stop interrupting. Anyway, so then we went to dinner."

"Where did you go?"

"I'm _getting_ to that. We went to this café… It wasn't _too_ expensive, but it wasn't cheap, either. I didn't want her to think that I'm a cheapskate, y'know? She only ordered a salad and at the beginning she seemed kind of bored, but she warmed up once we started talking about science-y stuff. She said that I was one of the only people who actually realized that she did well in school. I think that got me some points. Anyway, then I took her home at around ten-ish. And she gave me a kiss."

"On the cheek," Amy added as the walked through the hallway.

"Yeah, on the cheek. But still a kiss."

"Well, congrats; I'm glad it went well… Oh, there was something that D-_Miguel_ said that he wanted to talk to you about."

"You heard about our codename?"

"Oh yeah. Very clever, Stilinski."

"_I_ thought so. But no, I haven't talked to Miggy recently, thank God. What did he want? Oh yeah – how did _your_ date go, by the way?"

"What da – Oh, that? Fine. I didn't die, obviously, which is always a plus. But he said he wanted to talk about Scott about his boss – he thinks the vet is an omega."

Stiles nodded gravely. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking, too. I'll mention it to him – he has to go there after school anyway."

"Alright, I'll talk to you at lunch."

"Okay, see ya."

"Actually," she added at the last moment, "why don't you and Scott eat together so you can talk to him about you-know-what and I can talk to Lydia about Friday."

"Okay, good plan! I'm on it," he said as he disappeared into his English class.

* * *

><p>At lunch, the first thing Lydia asked Amy was, "Where were you Friday night?"<p>

"Jeez, Legally Blonde much?" Allison laughed.

"Amy's mom called my house Friday night looking for her… I covered for her, but I want to know where it was you had to lie about being," she explained.

"I left town to meet up with my friends from home," Amy lied, "I only drove halfway out to see them, but it was still a super long drive and I knew that my parents wouldn't want me going that far, especially not by myself."

Lydia looked at her skeptically, but seemed to buy it. Allison, however, did not look convinced. She knew that Friday had been a full moon. She locked gazes with the other brunette meaningfully; _we'll talk about this later_, her chocolate eyes read. Amy swallowed nervously.

Her phone buzzed against the lunch table; it was Stiles. She quickly snatched up the device before either of the other girls could see whom the message was from. Then, she looked down at the glossy screen: _he says he will talk 2 him about it 2day_

Amy tilted her head back up to see her companions staring at her expectantly. "It's my mom," she explained. "So, Lydia, how did your date with Stiles go?"

"You went on a _date_ with Stiles?" Allison hissed in disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Um, for this exact reason? It was fine. I have to say, Amy, I was pleasantly surprised. Perhaps you're _not_ as scatterbrained as you come off, after all…"

"Gee, thanks... So, is there another date in the future?"

"I don't know; like I said before, we'll see. He hasn't asked yet, though – he's playing it cool. I mean, we both _know_ that he's dying to go out with me again, but it's kind of sweet that he's trying not to seem so desperate."

"I can't believe you went on a date with _Stiles_," Allison repeated, still not quite used to the idea.

"Well, believe it," the other girl replied dismissively before applying a new coat of lip-gloss.

As they were walking out of the lunchroom, Allison whispered to Amy, "Go to the bathroom ten minutes in to seventh period."

When they finally met an hour or so later, Allison demanded, "Where were you really?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "I'm so sick of people asking me that," she muttered.

Allison raised an eyebrow expectantly and crossed her arms.

"Look, I really can't tell you," the other girl whined. She subtly searched the bathroom to see if anyone else was present; she soon came to the relieved conclusion that they were alone.

"Who is your closest friend here, Amy?"

"Uh, I don't know… Probably you, I guess."

"So, why can't you tell me? I _know _Friday was the full moon," she hissed, "I was with Scott."

"Oh my God," she said finally, as if she were having an epiphany. "Oh my God."

"What?" Amy questioned worriedly.

"You're – you're not…?"

"What?"

"You're not a _werewolf,_ are you?" she demanded urgently.

"_What_? _No_, of course not. Jesus. I'm not, I promise."

"Then what on earth could you have been doing?"

"If I tell you, you have to promise not to freak out. Or tell anyone. No one, not even Scott. Can you do that?"

"Yes," she answered immediately.

Amy sighed unhappily. "I was with Derek Hale," she whispered so quietly that almost neither of them could hear.

"_What_." It wasn't even a question so much as it was a statement.

"Yeah. See, I told you not to freak out…"

"Amy, do you have any idea how _dangerous_ that could have been? And not to mention stupid!"

"Yeah, okay, I admit it probably wasn't the best idea. But I'm fine, see? He's not bad. I swear to you he's not bad. He's trying to _stop_ his uncle, not help him. He's a valuable ally."

"Oh my God." She seemed to have another realization.

"What?"

"You like him?"

Amy chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. So maybe she did _kind of_ like him. Maybe she had the _teensiest _crush on him. But it was nothing. It was what she felt for every attractive guy that she came across. Nothing more. And it wasn't as if she was going to act on it…

"You _do_," Allison insisted.

"He's hot, what do you want me to say?"

"Yeah, but you actually like him. Not like a 'I think Brad Pitt is hot' kind of way, but like a 'I think Scott is hot' kind of way. There's a big difference."

"No, no, no, you're in _love_ with Scott. It's not nearly the same."

"Yeah, but there was a time when I just _liked _Scott. You like Derek. You totally do, don't even deny it."

"Okay, so maybe I have a tiny crush on him. But so what? Have you _seen_ him? He's smokin'. And It doesn't matter, anyway, he doesn't care about _me_ and nothing's going to come from it. It's really not a big deal. I just kinda feel bad for him with all the shit that's happened. Everyone he loved is _gone_, Al… It's so awful…"

"Yeah, it sucks, but he's still dangerous!"

"No more dangerous than Scott," she reasoned. "Plus, I don't even know why we're having this conversation. Nothing happened between us or anything even remotely like that, so I don't know why you're so concerned."

"You just… I don't know… When you were talking about him just now you had this weird glint in your eye that worries me. Just stay away from him, Amy, for your own good. Look at how difficult things are between Scott and I. Believe me, you don't want to deal with this."

"Allison, there's really nothing to worry about. I promise. He's too screwed up from everything that's happened to even consider having a relationship, anyway, so there's literally no risk at all."

"People can surprise you…"

There was a pause. "Allison, do you know _why_ Derek is the way he is? _Why_ he's so broken?"

"Uh, the fire?"

"Do you know how the fire started? Has Scott told you?"

"He said it was arsonists."

"It was your aunt, Al. Your Aunt Kate. She started the fire."

"What? No, you must – you must have heard wrong… There were kids in that fire; normal kids. My Aunt Kate would never do that…"

"Why don't you ask her when you get home. That's not even the whole of it… I probably wasn't supposed to tell you that, but I wasn't supposed to tell you about Derek, either. But I can trust you, right?"

"Y-yeah," she stammered, still quite shaken from the discovery that her aunt was a murderess. "As if I needed more of an incentive not to trust my family," she muttered sadly.

"I'm sorry you had to hear it from me," Amy said sadly, "But it's the truth. I have no reason to lie to you. Derek's the _victim_ here, and I don't understand why no one else seems to see that. God, if you treat someone like a criminal long enough, they'll grow to fit the description."

"You're right," Allison allowed, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have judged him so quickly… It's just, I know how he feels about my family… how he feels about _me._"

"No, I get it. I don't blame you, and he shouldn't either."

"So, are you, like, _friends _with him?"

"No, not really. I mean, I've seen him a couple of times, but the only time we hung out just the two of us was Friday. And I doubt there will be any more instances like that until, well, the next full moon. And Stiles is usually the one who deals with him, so I think Friday was just a one-off."

"Do you _want_ Friday to have just been a one-off?"

Amy thought about this for a moment. "N-no," she finally admitted hesitantly. "I don't think so... I mean, like, I really feel like he needs a friend, to be honest. Everyone seems to hate him. Sooner or later, people will grow to be whatever everyone expects of them."

Allison sighed. "Oh, Amy… Well, we should probably be getting back to class…"

* * *

><p>The next day, Amy went into school dying to know what had happened between Scott and his boss. Just before she stepped into the lab, she received a text from Stiles: <em>skipping bio. come to lax field<em>

Now, Amy had never cut class before – yes, she was a good-girl and she never would be able to escape the reputation.

But, this was important and she really wanted to be updated on the situation. So, she went. Sure enough, she soon saw Stiles and Scott sitting in the bleachers.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Do you want to do the honors, or shall I?" Stiles asked.

"I'll explain it," Scott answered. "So, here's the deal: my boss _is_ an omega, but he's, like, _super_ powerful – like alpha-powerful. And he said that he wants to help us and he hates to see me get mixed up in all this, but really doesn't want to get involved at all."

"_Plus, he hates Derek's guts,_" Stiles piped in.

"Yeah," Scott agreed, "But he thought our idea to try to find others to help us was pretty good, he just doesn't want be one of them. But _apparently_ there actually _is_ some sort of union/league thing… It's not very organized, but he said that certain werewolves are responsible for keeping track of the number of other werewolves in a given area. Basically, if you move somewhere or if you bite someone you're supposed to register. Granted, it's really inefficient and almost no bitten wolves are registered… But it still could be something."

"Did he give you the name of the guy for our area?"

"Yeah. His name's Sergio Cano. But the thing is, if we go see him he'll only tell us whether or not there _are_ other werewolves in Beacon Hills, not who they are. Unless, of course, they've made it known that they want other werewolves to be able to find them. But that almost never happens."

"But still, that's better than nothing," Amy reasoned.

"Yeah. Except it's a long trip – he lives in San Francisco. Derek said he could go alone and just spend the weekend up there."

"Can I go?" she questioned frantically; she wanted more than anything to go back to her hometown.

"You'll have to ask him," Scott replied with a raised eyebrow.

So, Amy decided, that's just what she would do. However, her scheming to get Derek to let her go with him was cut short by the sound of a very angry Coach Finstock.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: There you have it, guys! Haha do you think Amy will be able to persuade Derek? Is Allison trustworthy? And will getting caught skipping class be strike two for Amy with her parents? Please review!<strong>


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note: Thanks so much for all the reviews! Review=love. Some of you mentioned that Allison was a little out of character in the last chapter, so I'll try to fix that in the future... Thanks for letting me know. You guys are really the best! I hope you all like this chapter!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

"The three of you, what do you think you're doing!" Coach Finstock yelled.

"Uhh, nothing?" Stiles said evasively.

"What class are you supposed to be in?" he demanded.

"We have a free period," Scott lied.

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that. McCall, Stilinski, and … _you_ – "

"Amelia," Stiles piped in cheekily.

"– _Whatever_. The three of you, you're coming with me back to the school."

Amy, Scott, and Stiles, unsurprisingly, were given detention. As the three of them sat – amongst other delinquents – in the empty biology lab after school, Amy buried her head in her hands.

"What she matter?" Stiles asked.

"My parents are going to _kill_ me. They're already mad, and this is just going to make things worse. My mom thinks I have a secret boyfriend, and my brother thinks I'm dating _you_. As if things could get more disastrous…"

"Everyone gets detention once in a while," he reasoned. "Your brother thinks we're dating?" he asked, seemingly grossed out.

"Yeah. I corrected him, don't worry. But as for the detention thing, not me. I've never gotten a detention before."

The two guys couldn't help but share a grin at her unwarranted distress.

"_Stop_," Amy whined.

She had always been stereotyped as the goody-two-shoes, and she hated it. Just because she didn't particularly enjoy getting into trouble didn't mean she was some obnoxious tattletale or was afraid to take risks or something. Plus, she was really only an overachiever in the academic sense – she could be very wild and morally lax when it came to social interactions, as was evidenced in her display at Lydia's party…

"Amelia, you're gonna have to get used to this sort of thing," Stiles whispered.

"Yeah, I know," she admitted; it _had_ crossed her mind that this new lifestyle wouldn't be without its consequences. But she was almost out of high school and most of her college applications were finished or nearly finished… She planned to apply to Cornell University (her father's alma mater) as an ED candidate, so she needed to keep her grades up to standards. As long as she did that, though, she had a good shot at being accepted. Her transcript was very good, and she had plenty of extra-curriculars from her old school…

But it was important to keep in mind the fact that there _was_ more to life than just school. She didn't want to be one of those kids who worked so hard that life just passed them by – and she could see that she was headed in that direction, especially if she heeded all of her parents' advice.

And then, it finally came time for Amy to face the music at home. After pulling into the driveway, she sat in the car for a couple of moments, trying to keep her head about her. She was terrified of how her parents might react, specifically her father. He was almost always calm, especially around strangers, but he, like her mother, had quite the temper when provoked.

When she walked through the doorway, they were standing there, waiting.

"Take a seat, Amy," her father commanded, pointing to an empty chair in front of them. It was clear that they did not intend to join her, and were instead content to give their lecture while standing.

"We got a call from the school today," her mother started.

"No, Liz, let me deal with this," her father interrupted, putting a hand up to silence his wife. "_Why_ in God's name did you think it would be all right to simply _skip_ one of your classes? This is your senior year, Amelia. If you want to go to Cornell, you need to work harder. You're slacking off. I can see it. You're distant at dinners, you're never around during the weekends... Lord knows _where _you even are. It's completely unacceptable."

"Dad, I'm really sorry," she started timidly.

"No! Sorry doesn't cut it! You've never gotten a detention before. We've been giving you more freedom because you've never given us reason to keep you on a short leash, but if that changes so too will the rules of this house."

"You think _this_ is giving me freedom?" she demanded almost hysterically. "You never let me do anything! I'm only allowed out on the weekends, and I never have people over because I know that for some bizarre reason you hate it. But I have been a model child. Everything I've done – for my _entire_ life – has been to please you. To make you guys happy. It's basically my _purpose_, it seems. I have never rebelled _ever_. Do you realize how lucky you are? I never went through any trouble-making phase or anything like that. Jesus, okay, I got detention. But there's no need to act like I killed someone!"

Her father looked extremely angry, and for one horrifying moment Amy thought he might actually hit her. But her mother began speaking. "We've decided," she said, struggling to remain cool, "that we're going to take your car away. You can use it to drive to and from school, but that's it. Driving is a privilege, not a right."

"For how long?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes. It wasn't the fact that she was being punished that was making her upset, but it was the sheer sense of disappointment that was radiating off of her parents.

"We'll start with a month. If you're good, maybe we can make it shorter."

"You guys are being so unreasonable!" she protested. "It's _one_ detention! It's a miracle that I've gone so long without getting one."

"It's not the detention we're mad about," her father snapped, "It's the fact that you were skipping class. Biology is one of your weak subjects, and you can't afford to let your grade suffer. You're not smart enough to be skipping classes, Amy. If you _do_ get into Cornell, it'll be a damn miracle… And God knows, you were probably skipping class to meet with some _boy_ or something –"

"Jeff," her mother said in an attempt to placate him.

"No – she was probably with some boy, like a little – "

"_Jeff_. Don't say something you'll regret!"

"No, I'm not finished," he continued lividly, "And _because_ of whatever you were doing, you compromised your grades. I hope it was worth it."

"It _was_ worth it, _Dad_," Amy snarled. "And you're right!" she shrieked, "I _was _with a boy. _Two_ boys, actually. And I'm sorry that you're upset. I really am. I'm sorry I can't be as smart as Ian. You have your own genes to thank for that. I'm leaving."

Before they could say anything else, she turned on her heel and rushed out of the house, keys in hand. Never in her life had either of her parents spoken to her in such an insulting and condescending manner, and she was not about to stand for it. Her father's little speech _had_ to constitute verbal abuse.

And so she drove. It probably wasn't the best idea, and she was too distraught to even focus properly on what she was doing. She completely disregarded the speed limit, but, luckily, it was relatively late and there weren't many other cars on the road.

She skidded to a stop at the edge of the woods. Why she was there, she wouldn't have been able to say. She needed air. She need to clear her head, and the outdoors seemed like the best place to do that. Because true enough, she was sad and hurt. But she was also angry. Incredibly angry.

She kicked open her car door with complete disregard for damaging it and trudged into the forest.

It was pitch-black. The moon and the stars were the only illumination she had as she kicked a nearby tree. Pain shot through her foot, but she ignored it. Completely alone, she let out a scream of rage. It bounced off the trees and caused several birds to abandon their perches.

Suddenly, she heard a voice. "What the frig?" It was Derek.

"Derek?"

"_Amy_?"

"Yeah."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Amy didn't answer immediately. She turned her head towards the sky and tried to blink back her tears. She didn't want him to see her cry.

"What's the matter with you? Why are you here?"

"I got in a fight with my parents," she said finally. "I didn't know where to go, so I just came here. I wanted to be alone."

She knew that Derek really wasn't interested in hearing about her petty argument with her parents, but he didn't seem to know how to react to her.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she interrogated.

"I heard a scream. I assume that was you?"

"Yeah."

"Look," he said in an awful attempt to pacify her, "it's late. You should just go home. You're a teenager. This type of thing is practically required."

"My dad simultaneously managed to call me both an idiot and a slut," she stated bluntly, staring into space.

Even in the darkness, she could see him his eyebrows; obviously, he hadn't quite expected such a response.

Suddenly, her phone began to ring; it was her mother. She instantly hit the decline button, and moments later she saw that she had a new voicemail. Curious, she decided to listen to it.

"Amy," said her mother's voice through the earpiece, "Amy, where are you? Please come home. Your father didn't mean what he said; he just got riled up and overreacted. You know how he is, half the stuff that comes out of his mouth he doesn't really mean – it was just the first thing that came to mind. He wasn't thinking before he spoke. He's really sorry and he feels terrible for speaking to you like that. Please just come home, I don't like the thought of you driving alone at night…"

Amy immediately hit the delete button and angrily stuffed her phone back into her pocket.

"That was _her_," she told Derek, "Asking me to go home."

"... You should listen to her," he advised.

"You're going to San Francisco, right?" she asked in a seemingly unrelated string of thought.

"Uh, yeah," he answered tentatively, narrowing his eyes. "Why?"

"Can I go with you? Can we leave tomorrow?"

"Why do you want to go with me?" He seemed very surprised that someone should willingly choose to spend any amount of time in his presence.

"I'm from there. And I need to leave. I need to get away from here. It will royally piss my parents off if I just disappear for a few days."

"I think you mean worry," he corrected. "They'll probably call the cops."

"I don't care. I just want to leave."

He mulled it over for a minute or two. "I _guess_ you can come," he said finally, "But only if you promise not to talk on the car ride. I swear, I don't think I could take it. You're just as bad as Stiles, except I can't hit you to shut you up."

"Duly noted," she agreed, already feeling better. She was about to test the age-old theory of "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone," and she was eager to discover the outcome. Plus, she would miss two days of school, which, apparently, was right up there with committing genocide.

"Thanks so much!" she exclaimed after a few moments of thought. Without thinking, she gave him a friendly hug.

Hugging Derek Hale was like hugging a lamppost. He just froze up. Amy found this strange, given the fact that they'd been in close contact more than once. However, she supposed this might be _slightly_ different in that it was completely voluntary on her part.

When she pulled away, he did not look amused.

"And none of that, either," he said finally.

"Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed.

"Yeah, whatever. We leave at nine o'clock, so you better be ready."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Hey, so what did you guys think? I'm trying really hard to make Amy's relationship with her parents more than just teen angst... I mean, she really does love them - which is why she's so upset when her dad insults her. I don't know, I just hope I conveyed some level of complexity rather than "her parents are evil." Because I don't mean them to be. And same with Amy, I'm really trying to flesh out her character. She wants to please them, but at the same time she wants to live her life - sort of like Allison, in a sense. Deep down, she's not really the studious kid that her parents want her to be, which I hope I convey in the way she deals with her peers... <strong>

**But yeah, enough of this rambling. Please review, I'd love some thoughts on this chapter especially!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's note: Thank you so so so so so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I honestly had no idea I would have so many wonderful readers when I started this! I am very lucky :-) Anyway, I hope you all like this chapter!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

Surprisingly, Amy was awake before Derek. He'd let her sleep in his bed again, and she wandered downstairs to see that he was laying on the sofa. It looked as if he'd merely dozed off instead of actively attempted to fall asleep. She loomed over his sleeping body, waiting for him to open his eyes. It did in fact dawn on her that she was being incredibly creepy, but Derek was not without his own moments; he _had _been lurking in her bedroom after she'd gotten out of the shower, after all… Plus, she was given the perfect opportunity to examine his handsome face as his slept (_totally_ not creepy...). His dark eyebrows and eyelashes – the hint of stubble – the spiky black hair – the perpetual scowl – everything about him simply _screamed _bad-boy. She absolutely loved it.

He awoke with a jolt as he noticed her observing him. "What the hell are you doing," he demanded, his voice hoarse from having been asleep.

"Waiting for you to wake up," she answered innocently.

"Is that how you _always_ wait for people to wake up?"

"No, but I thought I'd give you a taste of your own medicine – you gave me quite the scare when you were sitting on my bed, waiting for me to return when I was nearly naked."

"Are you kidding," he scoffed, "That bathrobe was like a frickin' habit."

She quirked an eyebrow; so he'd noticed... "Are you referring to what nuns wear? Because I'm pretty sure they're not _completely naked_ underneath those things."

Derek gulped uncomfortably, and Amy smirked because she'd now planted a very graphic image in his brain. _Interesting_, she thought, _he can dish it out but he can't take it?_ "I bet if I were a werewolf I'd be able to detect a spike in your heart rate right about now," she teased.

"I think you're taking this rebellion thing a bit too far," he said finally. "Anyway," he continued, "Let's get going. The drive's gonna be a bitch."

"Hey, _I'm_ the one waiting for _you_," she pointed out.

"Okay, then get in the car."

Walking outside, she did as she was told. She was thankful to not be the one driving. At least Derek was being _mildly_ considerate. Once he put the car into drive and started speeding away, Amy took out her phone; _Oh dear,_ she thought to herself. Twenty missed calls from her house. Five from Allison. Three from Stiles. One from Lydia. She couldn't believe she'd slept through all of them (not that she would have even answered them if she hadn't).

"Twenty missed calls from my parents," she announced, "Do you think that means they've called the police?"

"Yeah, probably. Although, you have to be missing for forty-eight hours for them to actually start looking for you."

"So it's all good for now?"

"For now."

"I feel like such a badass," she commented excitedly.

"Let me let you in on a little secret," he started, "nothing's ever badass if you _say_ it's badass."

"You would know, wouldn't you," she quipped, "You practically ooze badassery."

"That sounds really disgusting," he replied, staring straight into the road in front of him. With Derek's driving, they would probably make it to San Francisco in half the time. The car was moving at an alarming speed, but neither he nor Amy was alarmed.

There was something about Derek that made her trust him, and she had no idea what it was. He hadn't given her any reason to (not that he'd given her reason _not_ to, either), but she was simply drawn to him. Sure, she was attracted to him in a physical sense (who wouldn't be?), but it was more than that. And it especially didn't make sense because A) he wasn't nice to her (or anyone, for that matter), and B) he was sulking _all_ the time. Oh yes, and C) for that matter: he'd threatened her life. Not exactly the makings of a strong friendship (although, Amy had to admit – even in the darkest depths of her soul – she was thinking of it more in terms of a _relationship _than friendship...).

But Amy had had crushes before, and they'd either run their course and she'd dated the guy in question for a matter of time; _or_ she'd gotten over it. She suspected the latter option would be the case with Derek, given the fact that he was not about to enter a relationship with _anyone, _let alone her (plus, it was kind of weird that she was crushing on a guy that her friend's aunt dated…)_._ It was too bad, really, because he needed something to be happy about. He was so full of rage and sadness, and it would be good for him to experience a positive emotion for once.

Of course, she understood _why_ he had trouble getting close to people, though. Who wouldn't after what he'd been through? Although, he seemed to trust Scott and Stiles almost completely, which was a step in the right direction. Perhaps, in time, Amy would be able to weasel her way into that tiny circle of people.

"Derek," she said suddenly, "what are you going to do if you _do_ become the Alpha?"

"Honestly," he admitted, "I haven't thought that far ahead… We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, and getting to it is going to be hell."

"What if killing your uncle is the only way to do it?"

Derek made a face; this was a question that had crossed his mind many times before, and for a moment Amy suspected that it _was_ the only way and he knew it. "I would do it," he said finally. "I no longer consider him my uncle. He's out of control."

"But who are you protecting by killing him," she asked, "You two have the same goal – to get back at the people who started the fire."

"I'm not _protecting_ anyone," he said. "I'm getting revenge. He killed my sister. My last living relative. If he killed her, what's stopping him from killing me?"

This was an excellent point.

"Are you going to stay in Beacon Hills?"

"I don't know… Why are you so interested?"

"I don't know," she stuttered bashfully, "I'm just trying to make conversation."

"Don't."

This stung, although she didn't know if he meant for it to. She chewed her lip; she inquired finally, "Have I done something _wrong_?"

"No."

"It sure seems like it…"

"I don't dislike you any more than everyone else. Maybe that's your problem; you think you're different."

"You don't know what I think."

"No, but I know how you _feel_. I can sense it."

"Would you kill Kate Argent if you got the chance?" she asked suddenly. Her mind jumped from place to place, but the question wasn't as random as it seemed; _she _was the reason Derek disliked everyone.

He faltered. "What is this, twenty questions?" he scoffed.

"Seriously," she pressed.

"Aren't you friends with _Allison_," he countered. He spat the girl's name like it was a curse.

"Yes," she answered simply, "But that doesn't mean I'm friends with her family."

"I doubt she wants her aunt to be killed."

"The right thing and the easy thing are almost never the same."

"What movie is _that_ from," he asked condescendingly.

"I can't remember. But anyway, would you do it?"

"I don't know if I could," he allowed finally. "She's a bitch and a whore and a psychopath, but I don't know if I could kill her. I know I've said this before, but believe it or not, I've never actually _killed _anyone. Best leave that to my uncle…"

Amy nodded; it suddenly made sense why the Argents had so easily captured him in the past, not to forget he'd just confirmed her suspicion that he wasn't as violent as he led people to believe. Another question bubbled up in her throat: _Do you still love her_? But she suppressed it. It was inappropriate and would only put him in a worse mood.

A thick silence descended upon them, which lasted nearly an hour. Then, Amy's phone range; it was Stiles. She didn't know whether or not she should answer, but gradually decided that she in favor of it.

"Hello?" she said.

"Where the fuck are you?"

"Lovely."

"Dude, everyone's been trying to get a hold of you. Your parents notified the school and people think that you were murdered or kidnapped or something."

"Nope."

"Where _are_ you," he repeated.

"Where are _you_? Aren't you in class?"

"It's my free period. _Where are you_?" he demanded.

"You can't tell anyone."

"I won't, we just want to know you're alive!"

"I'm with Miguel," she said, using his codename as a precaution – Stiles' father _was_ the sheriff, after all… He could be listening in on his calls.

"And where is that?" Stiles prompted.

"On our way to you-know-where."

"You convinced him to take you?"

"Obviously."

"Why did you just leave like that?'

"Because my parents are assholes and they deserve to sweat it out. I don't want to go into detail."

"Okay. But I think they're freaking out. They called my dad after the police department told them they couldn't start looking for you yet and he tried to calm them down."

"Good," Amy replied coldly. "Look, I have to go. But I'm fine; tell Allison and everyone not to worry."

"When you come back, shit's gonna hit the fan," he told her warningly.

"We'll see. See you… eventually."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

"Stiles," Amy explained to Derek.

"I know," he answered, "I heard."

"_O-kay_," she said prissily.

"What's your problem?"

She couldn't resist the urge to laugh; "_My _problem? Do you not even realize how you sound?"

"So-rry," he mimicked, "I don't like to sugar-coat things."

"_That's_ an understatement," she muttered with a cynical laugh.

There was more silence; the two of them couldn't seem to get along, though neither really _wanted _to bicker. For the next few hours, they spoke on and off. It was forced and superficial. She didn't know why there was suddenly an issue between them, but perhaps two people couldn't both be churlish and expect to mesh harmoniously. Amy was no longer the ray of sunshine she had been during their previous exchanges, but that would change. That would change as soon as this rough patch with her parents passed.

Amy texted her friends Natalie and Chloe: _I'm going to be in san fran… we should meet up_

_omg sure,_ Natalie's response came first. _when?_

"Are we going to meet Sergio what's-his-face tomorrow?" she asked Derek.

"Yeah. And then we'll leave sometime Saturday."

"Okay."

_how about sometime fri or sat? I'll let you know._

_ok. can't wait to see you!_

"How exactly are we going to _find_ this guy?" she asked. It was probably a question that should have sprung up before they were halfway there.

"Scott's boss gave him an address… He's not hard to find, he gets a lot of visitors. Apparently he's relatively important in the werewolf community, but I wouldn't know much about that. My family was pretty old school and didn't really get involved with politics and stuff. We kept to ourselves…"

"That doesn't surprise me…" Amy murmured.

"Most werewolf families are self-contained," he continued, "the ones who really branch out are usually omegas."

"I thought omegas were like the 'lone wolf' types."

"Yeah, but these societies and things aren't like packs at all. They draw the more independent werewolves, whereas pack-members figure things out amongst themselves. That's why a lot of people don't register."

She supposed this made sense. "If most packs keep to themselves," she started delicately, "Then how do they find spouses?" She hated to ask, but she really needed some clarification; all the episodes of True Blood she'd watched hadn't planted a very positive vision of were-packs in her mind (especially were-panthers…). [1]

"That's really not a question you should be thinking about... But if you must know, a lot of werewolves marry humans. Or sometimes they'll bite the person so that the offspring will be guaranteed to be werewolves. I think I know what you're asking, though, and unfortunately inbreeding is kind of common… Mostly between cousins… But _my_ family," he continued hastily, "didn't do that. My mom was a human."

"Oh," she replied meekly. "How many siblings did you have?" She knew it was a touchy subject, but he seemed more responsive than usual.

"Two. My older sister was a werewolf, but I also had a younger brother… He was human."

"How old was he?"

"Ten," he said sadly. "He was only ten," he repeated quietly. "Just a kid. Just a normal kid. He wanted to be a professional baseball player," he reminisced fondly. "His name was Jake…"

Amy could tell that this was particularly difficult memory for Derek, so she didn't press the matter.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely.

"It's all right. It was so long ago – he'd be Scott's age, now…"

Suddenly, something clicked in her head; so _that's_ why he felt he could trust Scott…

"My cousins were in that fire, too," he continued, "And some of them were normal, too. My other uncle, Luke, had a two year old daughter – she was too young for us to even know if she was a wolf yet."

"That's horrible." But horrible didn't even begin to describe it. It was far, far beyond horrible.

"Yeah," he murmured. _And it's Kate's fault – it's __my__ fault, _he added mentally.

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><p><strong>Author's note: [1] I don't know how many of you watch True Blood, but if you do you'll know that there were-panthers in the series are noted for their incestuous relationships. Obviously, this could be a little disconcerting for Amy...<strong>

**Oh yeah! And I just recently noticed in one of the TW episodes, the lax team BH plays has the initials MFH... could this be MYSTIC FALLS HIGH? Haha I was soupt.**

**So, I added a little Derek Hale history in there at the end. I feel like he had a big brother thing going on with Scott in the series, so this was sort of my attempt to explain it. In terms of his relationship with Amy, this is a step in the right direction, right? He _kinda_ opened up to her... Anyway, please review!**

**One of the reviewers (MadsFitz) put it really nicely - we're still in the "quiet before the storm" phase, but I assure you, there's going to be one hell of a storm. ;-)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's note: Hey, peeps (sorry, I'll never write it again...)! Thanks SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and all the other chapters and omg I love you all so much. I ALMOST broke my one-a-day streak. But I didn't. Here you go. I'm sorry it's kinda late :-( **

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><p><strong>Chapter 17<strong>

Amy was incredibly happy to once again be in San Francisco. It was where she had been born. It was where she'd grown up. It was where she felt she belonged.

But alas, it was her home no more. She was now a resident of Beacon Hills, and only temporarily visiting the city; she was there on a mission. _They _were there on a mission: to find a man named Sergio Cano. To find out whether or not there were other werewolves residing in Beacon Hills.

Derek spun the steering wheel, expertly pulling into a parking space and shifting the gear to "P." The rubber tires of the black Camaro skidded against the asphalt, screeching dully. It was seven twenty-three and they were stopped in front of a retro-style diner.

"It must be nice to be able to do something so mundane without having to worry about being spotted," Amy commented as they stepped out of the vehicle. The reassuring _click_ of the doors locking could barely be heard above the street-noise; it was a big departure from the atmosphere of Beacon Hills.

"I guess," he shrugged apathetically.

Together, they stepped into the restaurant and the door jingled behind them as it shut. The place was cheap, but charming. Metallic stools with shiny red tops where lined along the bar, and the day's pies were displayed on the counter. They showed themselves to a booth.

A bored looking waitress with bleached-blond hair approached them and handed over a pair of menus. "Welcome to Rocco's," she said through her chewing gum, "Can I get you two anything to drink?"

Amy ordered water and Derek ordered a Corona. The former raised her eyebrow; "What, it's been a long day," he explained defensively.

As they were purveying their options, Amy asked conspiratorially, "So, do you, like, only eat your meat rare?"

"I'm not even going to grace that one with a response," he said without looking at her.

"It's an honest question!"

He snapped his blue eyes up to peer at her from over the edge of the laminated paper. "No," he stated bluntly. "Although," he added after a moment of contemplation, "right before a full moon it _does_ really hit the spot." His sense of humor was so dry that Amy, as usual, couldn't quite tell whether or not he was joking.

When they were finished with their meal, Derek – surprisingly – picked up the tab. She thanked him and he brushed the sentiment off uncomfortably.

"What now?" Amy asked after they'd left.

"I don't know." It was almost nine thirty. "We should wait until tomorrow to see him," he said.

She nodded in agreement. "Where are we going to sleep," she asked suddenly.

"My car?"

"Both of us?"

"Yeah, I mean, you can sleep in the back and I'll stay in the driver's seat. It's not a big deal."

"I don't want to sleep in your car," she complained.

"Well, unless you've got money to pay for a hotel room – which I doubt – that's our only option. That is, of course, assuming you don't want to sleep on a park bench or with a bum. It's your choice."

"I have my debit card…" she started, "But they can trace that, can't they?"

"Yup."

"Damn."

"So, my car it is…"

"Fine… But we still have a while… Want to go for a walk?"

He seemed a bit caught off-guard by this question, but couldn't think of a reasonable excuse that would allow him to refuse. So, he replied, "Uh, sure…?"

They started off strolling down the busy streets, their path illuminated by a multi-colored array of headlights, stoplights, and streetlights. They spoke occasionally, but mostly continued on in a comfortable silence. Amy began to notice older people watching them and smiling as they passed, and it took her a moment to realize why; they thought she and Derek were a couple. It was an honest mistake, true enough; why else would two people be walking together, perfectly content to not exchange any words?

She craned her neck to look up at Derek, who kept his eyes glued to the concrete as they walked. He seemed not to notice people's reactions to them, which was probably for the best… Although, she figured his werewolf-powers made it difficult for _anything_ to slip his notice.

As they reached the waterfront, their excursion began to feel more and more like a date. Soon, their only companions became other couples, who were enjoying a romantic promenade whilst observing the scenery. _That's _when things became awkward for the first time.

"We should probably head back," Amy suggested as they passed a pair of teenagers making-out on a street bench. She bit her lip and waited for him to respond.

"Yeah," he agreed quickly.

An hour or so later, they approached where he had parked; she said, "Derek… I really want to thank you for letting me come with you."

"It's no problem," he answered dismissively.

"I really appreciate it," she continued.

He paused for a moment, before smirking predatorily. "If you really want to thank me," he teased seductively, "We're going to be alone in my car _all_ night…"

"_Funny_," she snapped back. "I'm just trying to be nice."

"There's no need. It doesn't make a difference to me either way."

She sighed in frustration, but didn't reply. She knew he was just acting like this to appear a certain way, but didn't understand _why_. What was the benefit of appearing so callous? Alienating people? She shook these thoughts away – it didn't matter. She opened the door to the car and slipped inside...

* * *

><p><em><strong>The next day...<strong>_

_Sergio Cano_, a first-generation Italian-American, lived in a beautiful, modern-style house on a steep slope. Derek and Amy stood on the front step, about to ring the doorbell.

"You're _sure_ this is the right place?" she asked.

"This is what Scott told me," he answered, "So _no_, it probably has about a fifty-fifty chance of being right. Let's just hope that both his hands were out of Allison's pants when he was texting the address…"

"Ew!" Amy exclaimed in disgust. She did _not_ want to imagine either of her friends in such a way.

"What?" he asked amusedly. "C'mon, you _know_ they do it. Plus, I never took you for a prude…"

"It's still gross! And I'm _not_ a prude, let me assure you…"

Derek sent her the same smirk he had the night before. "Oh I would _love_ to be assured…" he drawled.

Amy shook her head and rolled her eyes in exasperation, before ringing the doorbell herself.

They waited for several moments, until there was shuffling on the other side of the opaque glass. The door opened, revealing a short, plump, man in his mid-forties or so. His hair was short and graying, and the top of his head was quite bald. His skin was weatherworn and tanned, and he donned a white polo shirt and khaki slacks.

"Hello," he began, "May I help you?"

"Yes, are you Mr. Cano?" Amy asked.

"I am. And who might you two be?" He was looking mostly at Derek, and Amy was fairly certain that they could sense the truth regarding one another.

"My name is Derek Hale," he said, "And, uh, this is my girlfriend, Amy. We're from Beacon Hills."

Amy tried desperately to keep her face from betraying her surprise; the more she thought about it, however, the more logical the statement seemed. The term "girlfriend" involved far less explaining…

"And what, may I ask, is this visit in regards to?"

"Er, we'd just like to ask you a few questions…"

"Alright… Please, come in." He stepped aside so that they could pass through the threshold, and he began to lead them into a sitting area. He looked at the pair of them expectantly, waiting for them to follow.

"Come along, _dear_," Derek muttered to Amy through gritted teeth. He grabbed her hand and very nearly dragged her into the next room. Amy tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach as he touched her _voluntarily_ for what seemed like the first time and focus on being angry with him for treating her like an object.

Sergio motioned for them to sit on a crisp, snow-white couch while he settled himself in a matching armchair across from them.

"What can I do for you?" he prompted.

"Well," Derek started, "first of all, you _are_ what we think you are, right? Otherwise this whole thing will have been a waste of time."

"A werewolf? Yes – I am the leader of this area. And you two are wolves as well, I presume."

"I'm not," Amy piped in. Derek shot her an annoyed glance.

The older man narrowed his eyes, but replied, "My mistake, Miss. But it is obvious that you are aware of the workings of our world, correct?"

"Yeah," she answered.

"So what is it you would like to ask me?"

"We'd just like to know how many werewolves are registered in Beacon Hills. I understand that you can't give us exact names, but just a number would be really helpful," Derek said in what was a very clearly forced attempt to be polite.

"Beacon Hills, Beacon Hills," he mused, "There's certainly a lot of activity in that area, isn't there? Well, let's see – you said you're a Hale, yes?"

The younger man merely nodded.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Sergio said genuinely. "What happened to your family was a great tragedy."

Derek clenched his jaw; he was apparently having difficulty accepting the other man's pity _or_ he was trying to repress feelings of sadness. Perhaps it was a combination of both. Amy, on a whim, placed her hand on his knee comfortingly. He snapped out of his melancholia and turned briefly to look at her; his eyes searched hers. _She's playing the part_, he told himself before turning back to Sergio.

"You are the only survivor?" Sergio continued.

"No. My uncle, too."

"I see… Well, that would put the count at… Six, I believe." _Six_.

"Thank you," Derek said gruffly, standing to leave.

"Wait," the other man said, "How is it you came by my address?"

"Deaton, the veterinarian told us," he said simply.

"_Ah_, Deaton; he is a good friend of mine. Send him my regards."

Derek couldn't help but smirk; he would most _definitely_ not be sending the vet his regards… "Will do," he lied.

As soon as they were out of the building and back on the street, Amy said, "Six?"

"Six."

"Let's see… You, your uncle, the vet, Scott… That leaves two more."

"I don't know if he's counting Scott," he admitted, "He didn't even know for sure if my uncle was alive, and Scott was only recently bitten. It could be more than six."

"That's not really helpful at all, then…"

"No, it is. That means that there are at _least_ two more registered wolves that we don't know about."

"Now all we have to do is find them…"

"Right."

"How hard is _that_ going to be?"

"I don't know. We'll see."

"Do you really think your uncle is out recruiting people? Or is he out _changing_ people?"

Derek gnawed on his lower lip; "Changing," he said finally. "Wolves are fiercely loyal, but only to their own pack-members. They'll leave anyone else for dead."

"_Great_," Amy mumbled. "So, um," she stammered in an attempt to segue into an entirely different subject, "I told my friends that I'd meet up with them at some point today."

"Okay?" _he_ said; his _eyes_ said, _Why the hell are you telling me this?_

"So, can I meet up with you later? I'm gonna catch a cable car. I'll probably be done in a few hours. I'll let you know."

"Alright," he agreed disinterestedly.

"Okay. See you later."

"See ya," he replied as she walked away. These next few hours were now guaranteed to be fatally boring. God help him, he was actually starting to like her… Not _like_ her like her, but begrudgingly beginning to not hate her, was maybe more accurate. Like Stiles. Except Stiles wasn't an attractive member of the female species. And Stiles didn't flirt with him. _Oh dear._

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><p><strong>Author's note: Hehe please review! <strong>

**Also, the comments on the TW wiki said that the vet's name is Deaton, so I just went with that - apparently that's what Stiles referred to him as at some point.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's note: Hey everyone, sorry I missed yesterday! I was gone for literally the entire day... I hope you can forgive me! Just as an FYI, my classes start Sept. 4th, so after then updates aren't going to be nearly as often :-/ I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 18<strong>

The sun was high amongst a backdrop of blue as Amy walked through the park and took a seat in a patch of grass where she and her friends always sat when they visited. They had agreed to meet at one; she looked at her phone: it was twelve fifty-four. When she glanced up from the screen, she noticed two girls walking towards her; they were Chloe and Natalie.

Amy stood up and waved them over. When they caught sight of her, they picked up their pace until they were practically racing towards her.

Chloe reached her first, and she tackled her friend in a whirlwind of long, wild blond curls and a cloud of Dolce & Gabbana perfume. "We missed you so much!" she squealed.

"I missed you too!" Amy replied, hugging Natalie. "You cut your hair!" she said, motioning to her friend's now-chin-length chestnut brown locks.

"Yeah, like a week ago," she replied.

"So, what are you up to?" Chloe chirped.

"I'm just visiting," Amy answered. "I got in a _huge_ fight with my parents…"

"Oh no! What happened?" Natalie asked.

"Well, it's kind of a long story. But pretty much my dad called me a skank and an idiot."

"What an asshole!" Chloe replied. "Dude, if _my_ dad said that to me, I'd put a couple of new pairs of Louboutins on his card…"

"Yeah, well, _I_ ran away to San Francisco without telling anyone where I was going… I'd say it's a draw."

"They don't know you're here?" Natalie exclaimed. It wasn't like Amy to do something so rash…

"Nope."

"I bet they're spazzing the fuck out," Chloe said thoughtfully.

"Probably," Amy admitted.

"I approve," she said with a devious grin. Natalie shoved her. "_What?_"

"Don't say that. They're probably searching all over for you!"

"Yup, probably…"

"Are you here alone," she questioned.

Amy bit her lip hesitantly.

"You're _not_," Chloe accused. "Who'd you come with? Where are they? Is he hot?"

"Chill out, God. And yes I did come with someone but he's not here right now."

"So it _is_ a he!"

"Yeah, but it's nothing like that. We kind of just friends… Or I don't know if it's even that… We have a really weird relationship."

"Sounds complicated," Natalie commented.

"Kind of…"

"_So,_ is he hot?" Chloe demanded.

"No! Well, I mean, if you like the _type.._."

"What _type_? I want a full description. Tell me everything – hair color, eye color, style – Oh! What type of car does he drive? He _did_ drive you here, right?"

"Jesus, Chloe, stop talking for like one second!" Natalie scolded.

Amy rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. "Black hair. Blue eyes. Wears a leather jacket a lot… He drives a black Camaro…"

"Holy shit, Amy. He sounds fucking beautiful…"

"Chloe, shut up."

"I'm _talking_ to Amy."

"How old is he?" Natalie asked. _Ever the rational one, _Amy mused.

"I don't know, exactly. It's not like I asked, that would be sketch… I think like twenty-one or so. Maybe a couple years older…"

"Ah, so he's an older man," Chloe commented, waggling her eyebrows.

"Like I said," Amy started in frustration, "We're not really even friends. He had to come here anyway and I just asked if I could tag along."

"How did you meet him," Natalie pressed.

"He's a friend of a friend."

"_Gotcha_," Chloe said, "So someone set you two up… It's nice to see you've made some at least moderately useful friends out in the boonies or wherever the hell it is you live."

"Beacon Hills," Amy corrected. "And it's really not bad. I don't mind it. I've met some really cool people, you guys would like them."

"Yeah, yeah, just don't be too quick to replace us…" Natalie joked.

"So," Chloe interjected, "are we going to meet Camaro-boy?"

"No," Amy snapped, "Thank God… He thinks I'm weird enough as it is…"

"So you care what he thinks?" Natalie commented.

Amy blushed and hastily retorted, "No more than anyone else."

"Uh huh," she replied, completely unconvinced.

"Can we please get off the subject! Enough about me. What's going on with you two?"

The trio chatted for another few hours. They grabbed lunch at a nearby food-stand and talked about a multitude of high school problems, all of which seemed absurdly irrelevant in comparison to what Amy had been dealing with lately.

Eventually, it came time for them to break off their little reunion. As Chloe and Natalie returned to their respective houses, Amy took out her phone and called Derek.

"Hello?" came his low voice through the phone.

"Hey, it's me – Amy."

"Oh. Hi."

"I was wondering, do you think you could pick me up? It's okay if you can't…"

"I guess I can. Where are you?"

She gave him the address.

"Alright. I'm already in the car, so I'll be there soon."

"Okay, thanks a lot." The call was ended.

Amy sat outside the entrance to the park and watched as the sun began to sink in the sky and an entirely new color scheme overtook it. As corny as it sounded, she loved sunsets. There was something about the time of day between the afternoon and night that really appealed to her. She liked that it was light, but at the same time halfway to darkness. But, more than anything, she loved the hues. The purples, the pinks, and the oranges. It all reminded her of a watercolor painting.

However, her peaceful observations were brought to a close by the sound of the wolf-mobile screeching to a halt in front of her.

"_Discreet_," Amy muttered sarcastically as she got into the car.

"I try," he shot back. She thought she noticed the beginnings of a smirk playing at his lips; but then she blinked and his ever-present scowl had replaced it.

"I really don't want to go back," she announced suddenly, her voice muted with unhappiness.

He didn't reply immediately.

"Can't I just stay here?" she pleaded. She knew it was ridiculous – she was just kidding.

"Not an option," he answered.

"Ugh. I don't want to go back to my parents. Things are going to be even worse now." And it was true. However bad things would have been if she'd just returned home after her little nighttime excursion, they were now magnified tenfold. And she couldn't imagine any way out of it; a knot of dread began to coil itself in the pit of her stomach and she suddenly felt very anxious.

"Calm down," Derek said.

"Hm?"

"Your heart just started racing and I can practically feel the nervousness radiating off of you. It's very distracting."

"I'm sorry, but my feelings aren't without cause."

"It will be fine, don't worry."

"How can it be fine?" she demanded.

"They'll be so happy to see that you're even _alive_ that they'll forget to be mad."

"I doubt it."

"They will. My sister did almost exactly what you're doing once. I thought my parents would kill her, but when she came back they just _hugged_ her and stuff." He said the word hug like it was a foreign term.

"We'll see," she replied, still not assured. However, the fact that Derek had even _tried _to assure her was a monumental leap in its own right. The knot in her stomach began to dissipate into butterflies, but the transition was made awkward by the fact that he could probably sense this as well. She'd have to learn how to exercise more control over her internal emotions.

"Derek?" she said abruptly.

He paused for a moment; her tone was disconcerting and it sounded much too affectionate for his liking. "Yeah?"

"What if the other werewolves in Beacon Hills don't _want _to be found? What if they're hostile?"

"Let's hope they're not… I mean, there haven't been any killings since my uncle left, which is a good sign…"

"True," she allowed.

"Look, Amy," he said finally, "This really isn't your problem if you don't want it to be."

"I _do _want it to be," she insisted earnestly. "How many times do I have to tell you?" She secretly relished the sound of him saying her name in a way that didn't seem vulgar.

He stayed quiet; he could tell from her steady heartbeat that her claim was genuine.

"You're not so bad," she said after a few minutes. "Deep down, you're really not. You're one of the good guys, even if it doesn't always seem like it."

"I'm just trying to clean up this mess that my uncle created," he allowed. "If there's a way to do it without becoming the alpha, I'll do it. I don't want power; I just want an average, calm life. One where I don't have to worry about being killed by several different people on a daily basis."

Amy nodded sadly in acknowledgement. "You should leave Beacon Hills when this is all over, then." She didn't _want_ him to – especially since it meant that she would probably never see him again – but if it was for the best…

"I would, but Scott…"

"Scott's going to college next year, isn't he?"

"I don't know. I haven't asked him about it."

"If he does go to college, you can always go to wherever he moves," she suggested.

"Maybe." He didn't quite like the prospect of having to follow around the teenaged werewolf. The role of babysitter was never one he'd thought he would have to occupy.

Eventually, the pair stopped at a deli and picked up some sandwiches for dinner. They were leaving in the morning, but, by the time they got back to Beacon Hills, it would probably be late. She might not go home until Sunday, though she wasn't sure she _ever _wanted to. But she knew this wasn't an option – she had nowhere else to go.

"Derek," she said randomly (as she often did) after they'd finished eating, "Do you think Kate would kill _you_ if she got the chance?"

"Without a doubt," he answered immediately, "Though, she might torture me first – that's what she did last time, at least…"

"She _tortured_ you?"

"Yeah, she was trying to get information out of me about my uncle and I wasn't being cooperative, to say the least."

"That's horrible, though. How could she do that to you? Especially since she _knows_ you. You're not just some stranger or something…"

"She's bat-shit crazy. You have to understand that, Amy. That's what it comes down to. She's more bloodthirsty than my uncle, but, thankfully, much weaker. She faked an _entire_ relationship with me, just to get to my family."

"She had to have gotten to know you during that time…?"

"Yeah, she did. I trusted her. I told her that I _loved_ her," he snarled, "I don't know of many horrible _monsters_ that do that." There was no hurt in his tone; instead, she sensed anger. Not only with Kate, but with himself; he was angry with himself for having been so blind.

Amy was silent; she was beginning to see why Derek might be worried about Scott and Allison. From the looks of things, Allison was totally normal and sweet and honestly cared about Scott. But who's to say that Kate hadn't appeared the same way?

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><p><strong>Author's note: Okay, so I know this wasn't the most exciting of things; but the next chapter will be much different ;-) Please review!<strong>


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's note: Thank you all so much for reviewing the last chapter! I really think you guys will all like this one... Or I hope you will, at least. It's pretty wild, in more ways than one ;-) Get your towels ready 'cause it's about to go down! (The Lonely Island references ftw...)  
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><p><strong>Chapter 19<strong>

For Amy, the ride home seemed unbearably short; soon, she would have to face her fuming parents. For Derek, on the other hand, the ride was unbearably long. The panic that his female companion emitted was so distracting that he could barely focus on driving. She was a wreck, and she was irritating him with her frantic chatter and rapid heartbeat.

By the time they reached the outskirts of Beacon Hills, night had already fallen. As soon as they passed the welcome sign, Derek instructed, "Can you call the others?"

"The '_others_'?"

"Scott and Stiles."

"Why?"

"To let them know what we found, obviously," he said in irritation.

Amy glared at him disapprovingly for speaking to her in such a manner, but did as he asked nevertheless.

"Amy?" came Stiles' voice.

"Yeah, it's me. We're just entering Beacon Hills – we just passed the welcome sign. Do you want to meet us somewhere to go over what happened?"

All of a sudden, there was a heavy _boom_ on the roof of the car.

"Hold on a sec," she told Stiles. "What the hell was that?" she hissed to Derek. He was looking out of the window, on high alert. He seemed nervous.

"I don't know," he said gravely. However, his tone indicated that, odds were, it wasn't anything good.

"_Amy? Amy, what's going on?_" said a muffled voice through the phone. She ignored Stiles and directed her full attention instead to what had hit the car.

There was another loud _bang_; this time, there was a dent left in the roof just behind Amy's seat. She dropped her phone on the floor beside her feet and their friends' concern was no longer audible.

"_Derek_," she squeaked; she was too petrified to even be panicked. Her eyes were saucers as she looked through the back window: there wasn't anything in sight.

But he wasn't stopping. Instead, his eyes continually darted to the rear view mirror as if searching for something – searching for something _specific._

And then, there was a hellish crash, followed by the sickening screech of bending metal and the smell of something burning.

The car jolted to a stop, and Amy's seatbelt dug painfully into her shoulder. The airbags inflated in their faces. She saw black, with random bursts of color exploding in front of her eyes. Her ears were ringing.

After the shock had subsided and her vision was no longer impaired, she turned her head to see that the driver's seat was distressingly empty. Quickly, she undid her seatbelt with a difficulty that could only be brought on by terror; her hands were trembling and her blood was burning in her veins. She felt as if she might be sick.

She stepped out of the car, unsteady on her feet. She gave herself a brief once-over, however, and came to the conclusion that she was generally unscathed; though, she probably had whiplash. When she finally looked up and the world stopped spinning, she took a moment to register the scene before her. Then, she shrieked loudly.

There was an enormous, grisly animal in the flickering headlights of the totaled Camaro. It was vaguely humanoid, but predominantly wolf. Its eyes, red as the devil's, gleamed almost as brightly as its teeth. It snarled and snapped viciously, saliva foaming and clinging to its gruesome fangs. It _had_ to be the alpha; it had to be Peter Hale.

Derek was in front of the beast, he himself fully transformed.

His stance implied that he was ready to fight, but he looked as harmless as Natalie's Labrador puppy in comparison. He didn't stand a chance.

It was strange, she thought, that he and his uncle should retain their werewolf forms whilst confronting one another.

"Derek!" she cried. He snapped his head to look at her, his sharpened canines in full view.

The wolf let out a heinous growl at the sight of her, and took a step in her direction. Amy was paralyzed with fear. Derek rushed in front of her at an unearthly speed. At first, this action only served to further terrify her. However, as he stretched out his arms and kept her behind him, it became clear that he was _protecting_ her.

For some reason, this seemed to enrage Peter. He howled and lunged at the beta, using one bear-sized claw to effortlessly throw him aside.

His back hit a nearby tree with a resounding _thud_, but he almost immediately scrambled to his feet and challenged his uncle once again. The creature let out a roar of fury and slashed him across the chest, completely destroying the front of his shirt. Thick, dark blood began to seep through. Derek yelped in pain, before growling ferociously at the alpha. He raised his own clawed hand and swiped, but to no avail. Peter dodged him easily and delivered another blow, this time to his face; the skin on his cheek tore hideously. Four puckered and glimmering scrapes marred his features, but the flesh soon began to repair itself.

Finally, Derek was able to get shot off and slashed the alpha across the snout. As crimson blood began to drip from its face, it opened its powerful jaws and clamped down on Derek's midsection. Amy screamed. It was able to lift him into the air like a chew-toy and shake him violently.

"Stop it, you're killing him!" she pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

Peter tossed him aside.

He landed in the grass, lifeless.

The creature resumed its approach on Amy, who was now crouched down and crying. It was covered in Derek's blood. _Derek_. He was dead. And now, she was going to die too.

"Please, why are you doing this?" she tried halfheartedly.

There was a rustling. Derek _was_ alive, and he was dragging himself towards her, unable to walk properly.

The alpha seemed annoyed, and soon diverted its focus to finishing the other wolf off. It drove its nails into his stomach gleefully and flexed its fingers in the gaping wound.

In what seemed like an instant, Derek reverted back to his human form; he began writhing and shouting in agony, coughing up black blood. The alpha raised its gigantic claw, ready to strike again and effectively kill him.

Without thinking, Amy rushed in front of Derek's battered body and shielded him. "No!" she yelled.

The alpha's eyes flashed with what appeared to be bewilderment. Its ruby orbs oscillated between her and Derek wildly – _calculatingly_. The time it took to stare at them seemed like forever, and the sound of its panting breath and the warm moistness it left on her face would forever haunt Amy's nightmares. It let out one more low, ground-shaking growl, before turning and swiftly racing away, into the forest.

Amy was left confused, horrified, and distraught, on her knees in front of Derek's limp form. His cerulean eyes lulled shut as she cradled his head in her lap and inspected his injuries; they were far beyond gruesome. At some point, she tore her gaze away from the gory mess. There was nothing she could do besides wait for him to heal himself, which, from the looks of things, could take a while.

His eyelids flinched as he felt water droplets fall onto his face, which, he sluggishly realized, where Amy's tears. She was crying. She was crying for _him_. She had rashly, stupidly, and impulsively thrown herself in harm's way, somehow thinking that he might benefit from it. And, strangely enough, it had _worked_. He had been spared.

"Why would you do something so stupid," he groaned indistinctly, slowly opening his eyes to look at her.

Amy, through a series of sniffles and mumblings, shushed him and told him to save his strength.

"I'll heal," he stated bluntly, his voice hoarse. He was already beginning to feel better as the cells of his internal organs re-grew and came together, like pieces of a puzzle. He couldn't understand why she'd risked her life for him.

And _she_ couldn't understand why _he'd _risked his life for _her_. She thought he hated her. (Maybe not _hated_, but still; very strongly disliked, at the least).

"Why are you crying," he asked more softly. He was hesitant; almost as if he was afraid of what her answer might be.

"Because I thought you were going to die! I thought _I_ was going to die."

"You would care if I died?" he murmured. He was perplexed.

"Of course I would."

"I gave you so many opportunities to run," he said almost irately. "Why didn't you take them?"

"I told you I wasn't going to run away at the first sign of trouble, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but… What you did was incredibly idiotic. It could have cost you your life."

"You would care if I died?" she echoed.

He looked at her in a way that sent chills through her body, in more ways than one. His serious gaze seemed to penetrate her very soul, and she suddenly felt exposed; a wave of something foreign rolled through her body.

To suppress the feeling, she turned her attention to his injured torso. The hole in his stomach wasn't nearly as large as it had been, and now it wasn't much more than a flesh wound.

"I think I can stand," he said suddenly. He _needed_ to stand. She didn't know. She didn't know what she was doing to him.

"Okay."

She hooked his arm around her shoulder and offered as much support as her five-foot-four, hundred-and-ten-pound body could provide. The joints in his legs were wobbly and he swayed a bit, but his determination overshadowed any weakness he might have succumbed to. He disentangled his arm from her, but she stayed very close, as if waiting for his imminent collapse. Amy wasn't able to fathom that anyone could survive what he'd just been through. He had a tendency of doing that – of surprising people with his resilience. He prided himself on it.

Their contact had sent a bolt of electricity through her and he could _smell_ her reaction. He could smell the pheromones. And he sensed – what was it? Gladness? Relief? She was happy that he was all right. She was _very _happy that he was all right. Too glad. Too relieved. Too happy.

"Thanks," he muttered. He wanted her away from him. He wanted her away from him _now_.

"_Derek_," she breathed, not looking at him but instead at his tattered shirt.

He winced. "Don't do that." Self-control was becoming very tough.

"Do what?" she murmured. Her eyes raked over his body, to see if he was healed. But not _just_ to see if he was healed.

"_That_."

"I'm not doing anything," she said, finally bringing her gaze up to meet his. She peered at him from beneath her thick, dark eyelashes.

He couldn't stand it. She was emanating so many emotions. _Lust_, among them. And that, combined with everything he himself was feeling: bloodlust, relief, confusion, anger, rage, and now arousal. It was too much. The animal in him lashed out.

He grabbed her waist and pressed her against him so that her hipbones were boring almost painfully into his – _almost_, but not quite. His fingers dug into her soft, warm skin and he tried desperately to prevent his nails from turning to claws. It was difficult. More difficult than usual.

She appeared vaguely frightened, but her pupils were dilated and her _scent.._. His perceptive ears were filled with the beating of her frantic heart. She was wondering, above all, what he was going to do next.

He didn't drag it out.

Without a moment's hesitation, he pressed his lips to hers. It was as if a coil had snapped within him; the action was not gentle. It was not romantic. It was urgent and heated and possessive and demanding. His mouth tasted like copper, but she couldn't bring herself to be grossed out.

Amy was taken aback, but only slightly. Her fingers ghosted over the side of his face and she was relieved to be met with smooth skin, which amalgamated into a shallow layer of stubble. One hand disappeared into the thick of black hair at the back of his head.

The kiss was dangerous. He very nearly forced his tongue into her mouth, but she didn't mind. She matched his vehemence and quickly started to feel lightheaded and overheated. He was warmer than an average person, which she supposed made sense. As their mouths and teeth and tongues moved discordantly and frenziedly against one another, Derek began to fear that he might not be able to stop the natural progression of things.

But the sound of a branch snapping buried this concern. They broke apart, their lips smacking at the motion. He ushered her behind him as the leaves began to part… And then…

It was Stiles and Scott.

He had never felt a stronger urge to tear their throats out, which was really saying something given the fact that he felt the urge quite often.

"Are you guys okay?" Scott exclaimed worriedly. There was a faded blush spreading across the two teenagers' faces, which implied that they had seen Derek and Amy's _interaction_. But it disappeared rapidly once they saw the car wreck.

"F-for the most part," Amy stuttered.

"They sure seem okay," Stiles grumbled. Scott elbowed him hard in the ribs, but the other boy was unfazed – this sort of thing happened to him quite often.

"How did you know to come?" Derek demanded.

"I heard a whole bunch of commotion on the other line and I thought you guys might be in trouble… And from the looks of things I was right," Stiles explained.

"What happened?" asked Scott.

"We were attacked," Derek said vaguely.

"By what?"

"The alpha," Amy answered.

"Your uncle did this?" Stiles demanded of Derek.

The bruised werewolf chewed his swollen lip testily; the taste of Amy's own lips lingered. "We _were_ attacked by an alpha," he allowed, "But it wasn't my uncle."

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><p><strong>Author's note: Remember when I said a storm was coming? <strong>

**So, I'd love to know what you all think! Don't worry, Derek's not going to get all sentimental now - not at all. The whole thing was supposed to come off as very primal and spur-of-the-moment, which I hope I conveyed. For some reason, I feel as though werewolves would be really in-tune with other people's emotions, almost to the point where it would affect their own actions. Sort of like when Lydia and Scott made out, y'know? **

**And who do you think attacked them? I'd love some feedback... Please review! :-)**

**P.S. Random facts: I was listening to Wolf & I by Oh Land when I wrote this... Such a good song!  
><strong>


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's note: Thanks so so so so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I meant to get this chapter up yesterday, but the internet's been wonky what with the hurricane and such... Hopefully it won't do too much damage... Anyway, I'm glad you were excited about the kiss (there will be more of that sort of thing to come, don't you worry) :3**

**Also thank you to anon reviewers, Teen wolf lover, AL, shakalaka, and ames!  
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**It was interesting to see who you all think the alpha is! I'm obviously not going to tell anyone if you're right or wrong... We don't want to ruin the story, do we? ;-)  
><strong>

**P.S. Just thought I'd make this clear since we've entered the romance phase: this story's only rated T so I'm not going to go into explicit detail with anything, if you know what I mean... I don't really do sex scenes, sorry! That isn't to say, though, that I won't write other naughty things... It will just stay within a T rating.**

**Hope you all like this chapter!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 20<strong>

"Not. Your. Uncle?" was all Amy could manage.

"No. That was someone else," Derek replied.

"My boss?" Scott suggested. "He never did like you, after all…"

Derek shook his head solemnly. "No, I don't think it was him, either."

"Then who?" Stiles demanded.

"I don't know," he started, "But we're sure as hell gonna find out."

"Why do you think he attacked us?" she questioned.

"I have no idea – and it's not necessarily even a 'he.' For all we know, it could be a woman."

"That _thing_ didn't look very feminine," Amy reasoned wryly.

Derek shrugged. "I wasn't paying close enough attention to notice the details – I was too focused on _not_ getting killed – and making sure you weren't killed, either."

"Can't you _sense_ that sort of thing?" Stiles asked delicately, not quite meeting Derek's gaze.

"Usually. I _think_ it was a guy, but I'm not positive. We have to keep our options open."

"The attack was unprovoked, then?" he asked, "The alpha just came out of nowhere?"

"Yeah, basically," she answered. "We were just driving along, minding our own business, and then BOOM. There it was."

"That thing's going to _fucking_ pay for ruining my car," Derek snarled ferociously. They all had to admit, it _was_ indeed a horrible tragedy to see such a beautiful vehicle meet its unfortunate and untimely end.

"Can you take it to the shop?" she wondered aloud. "Not here, but somewhere else?"

"I can try to fix it myself," he said. "I'm good with mechanics. But it will take a while. And I'll have to order the parts…"

"I don't understand why _it _would go after us. Or how it would even know to," she said.

"Maybe it's been planning this for a while," Scott suggested. It wasn't an altogether unreasonable notion. Enough people in Beacon Hills knew about the existence of werewolves to make such a thing quite possible…

"Maybe," Derek agreed. "But for now, we really need to get my car out of here…"

"I parked in the woods," Stiles said, "But I don't have anything to tow your car with. There's a chain in my garage, though…"

"Run back and get it," Derek instructed. "I'll wait here."

"Okay," he agreed, starting back towards the woods with Scott by his side. He turned and looked at Amy expectantly.

"I think I'll stay here," she explained. "Just in case."

"Suit yourself." With that, the two teens disappeared into the darkness of the foliage.

When Amy was fairly certain that they were out of earshot (Scott _did_ have superhuman hearing, after all…), she turned abruptly to Derek and asked, "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?" he asked with mock-innocence, averting his line of sight.

"Kiss me."

Several beats of silence passed, before he said, "Because you wanted me to." He still wasn't looking at her.

"Did I _say_ I wanted you to?"

"Not with your mouth, no," he said, snapping his eyes to hers, "But your body practically _screamed_ it. It's different with werewolves than it is with regular people. We're more susceptible to the feelings put out by those around us. For instance, if you were really angry with me I would get angry right back… If you signal something _else_ – well, you saw the result…"

A bright pink blush crept across Amy's cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Derek was faintly aware that it made her look even more appealing, but he banished the thought as quickly as it crossed his mind. "You're upset with what I did?" he inquired. There was no emotion in his voice, only curiosity. She hadn't _seemed_ upset, that's for sure…

"No," she answered slowly. "No, I'm not. Of course not – I mean, you were _there_," she stammered, her blush deepening. Now, it was her turn to look away from him. She redirected her attention to the silvery crescent moon shimmering above the trees. The moon. It was oddly appropriate.

Derek couldn't help but feel somewhat self-satisfied with her reaction.

"So that's it, then," she said finally, disappointment glaringly apparent in her tone. "You only did it because of the _pheromones_ I was emitting?" Her intonation changed at the word "pheromones"; she pronounced it like it left a bad taste in her mouth. As if the idea that something so crude could be a part of her was disgusting. It almost amused him, how out of tune with her own body she was.

He thought his response over carefully: "I can be influenced by other people's emotions, but not controlled by them. So, no."

Her face lit up and her body language struggled to remain nonchalant. He almost thought it was cute.

"No?" she asked quietly, _disbelievingly_.

"No," he repeated confidently. "You showed well today," he started ambiguously, "You proved your loyalty. I don't know how many people would do what you did. It may have been stupid – _really_ stupid – but it proved that you're trustworthy…"

"I told you I was…"

"Yeah, but tonight you _proved _it. That's what's important. A person's word is worth nothing," he snapped cynically. "Take it from me, I know from experience."

She was silent for several moments. "So now I'm, like, fully assimilated into the _pack_?" she asked eventually.

His eyes flashed in amusement at the mention of a pack, but his mouth remained a tight line. "I guess," he allowed with a shrug. He looked odd; his body was fully healed by this point, but his skin and clothing were absolutely covered in gore and grime.

"So you don't hate me?" she asked.

"No, I don't hate you," he scoffed. He'd thought he'd made his opinions obvious...

"I don't hate you, either."

"That's good, I guess." He didn't want to talk about this. He _really_ didn't want to talk about this. He never would understand females' need to discuss _everything_. Although, even _he_ had to admit, what had occurred between them put a decidedly new spin on their relationship. He wasn't sure where to take things from this point forward, actually, which was a rarity. However, what he found strangest about the whole ordeal was that he didn't regret his actions in the least. Usually, when he acted on pure instinct, he would later chide himself for behaving so rashly.

"Derek, I – "

She was cut off by the sound of an engine revving.

"It's Stiles," he informed her.

"We're ba-aack!" Stiles announced through the window as he pulled his car in front of Derek's. "Hope we're not _interrupting_ anything," he added as an irritating afterthought.

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek growled, "For your own good."

"Testy, testy…" he muttered under his breath.

Scott exited the car, the metal chain securely in his grasp. He hooked one end up to the front of the Camaro and attached the other to the Jeep as Derek shifted his car into neutral. When everything was properly set up, the three hopped in the Jeep. Scott sat in the passenger's seat, which meant that Amy and Derek took the back. As Stiles slowly began to drive towards the Hale house, an awkward silence descended upon them.

The tension between Amy and Derek was almost palpable. So much so, that they couldn't even look at one another while seated. His left knee and her right knee were close, but not touching. She could feel the heat radiating off him, she was so close – it felt almost as if there was a magnet drawing them together. Her senses were going haywire; she told herself it was because she'd just experienced a trauma. This was normal, right? It was normal to feel so many emotions coursing through her veins… Wasn't it?

But it was making her crazy. Which, in turn, was making _him _crazy.

And this was all very distracting to poor Scott.

"You guys," he whined suddenly, shattering the layer of quiet, "you know, I _know_ you can't help it, but, like, I can sort of _sense_ what's going on. It's like – it's like a smell…"

Stiles laughed out loud. "Oh my God, that's so awkward."

"Both of you – especially you, Stiles – just _shut_ your goddamn mouths," Derek snapped, unfazed.

Amy buried her face in her hands out of embarrassment. _Great_, she thought, _now not only Derek – who doesn't seem to mind – can sense when I'm turned on, but Scott can too. That's just peachy._ This was not her day; things were getting worse and worse, and she had yet to even face her parents.

When they reached Derek's house, she asked, "Hey, would it be okay if I crashed here tonight? I don't think I can deal with anymore drama." She winced internally at the word "crash" and cursed her poor word-choice.

"I bet you'd like that…" Stiles quipped lewdly.

Amy forcefully kicked the back of his seat, causing him to jerk forward. The seatbelt locked and cut into his shoulder painfully.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Derek replied warily once the other two had stepped out of the car.

"_Please_? I have nowhere else to go… Stiles and Scott both have their parents to worry about."

"I guess," he finally answered begrudgingly. It wasn't that he didn't want her there – he was reluctantly man enough to admit that he _did _(this, in fact, surprised him, but only a little). It was that was afraid of what might transpire between the two of them if she stayed. She brought out a side of him that he found perplexingly difficult to control. She brought out the wolf.

And since he'd kissed her, he was more aware of it than ever before. It was as if he'd gotten a taste and now he was ravenous for more. And he knew that he couldn't _have_ more, because that would only complicate things; and everything was muddled enough as it was. But it was the forbidden nature of it that made it all the more appealing.

But _why_? She was a normal, eighteen year old girl. Her breed was practically a surplus – legions of high schoolers could be seen anywhere – at the mall, at the cinema… The fact that _she, _out of everyone, should interest him was bizarre in so many ways.

He felt almost dirty for thinking about her in such a way. _Almost_.

He'd always thought she was alluring, in her own way. When he'd first (officially) met her, in her intentionally mangled band t-shirt with her raccoon eyes and trying-too-hard shoes, he thought she was cute. Funny. The sort of person that you appreciate for an hour or so while they're drunk and then never see again. Nothing she did or said that night was out of the ordinary or unexpected in any way. She was young – not yet ruined by life. She was willing to believe in whatever she saw; willing to believe in the impossible.

However, she wasn't enough younger than him for it to be inappropriate. Their age gap was only four years – far less than his and _Kate's_ had been, that was for sure… _She_ was nearly ten years his senior; the thought of it now made his skin crawl. She'd _taken advantage_ of him, as ridiculous as it sounded.

But something about Amy brought him back to the point in his life before everything had turned to shit. Before his family had been massacred. Before his soul had been destroyed by deceit and guilt. And while he'd always found her attractive, this new flame of desire that was burning in the pit of his stomach was nothing in comparison to what he'd felt before. It was troubling.

When they were finished unhooking the Camaro from the Jeep, Scott brushed his hands off on the tops of his pants and said, "You guys good?"

It was nearly midnight. "Yeah, thanks," Derek replied gruffly.

"Alright, then," Stiles said, stepping into his car, "You kids behave."

Derek and Amy both sent him death glares, causing him to hastily throw the car in reverse and get the hell out of there. When the car was out of sight, Amy crossed her arms over her chest and turned to Derek. "Thanks for letting me stay here," she said, not quite making eye contact.

"Sure." Then, he started towards the house.

"Derek," she said quickly. He looked at her expectantly, if not agitatedly. He had already spoken far too much for his liking.

"I just wanted to tell you before," she stammered, "I'm really glad you're all right.

He nodded curtly in acknowledgement, before stepping inside. She quickly followed; the Hale house _was _very spooky at night, after all...

"Where can I sleep," she asked once they were inside.

"You can take my bed again."

"Oh... Are you sure? I feel bad..."

"Don't," he replied, brushing her off, "It's not a big deal. I hardly ever sleep in it, anyway."

He led her up the creaky staircase and noticed that stayed _very_ close to him the entire way up, almost as if she were afraid that she might fall through one of the steps. He supposed it was a valid concern, but couldn't help but wish she'd keep her distance.

Amy nodded and sat down on the bed. "Thanks," she said. Her voice was low, and had the slightest tinge of seductiveness in it.

Derek clenched his fists and shoved them into his jacket pockets, his nails digging painfully into the heel of his hand. "Yeah," he replied. Then, he quickly closed the door and headed back downstairs. The fact that such a slight change in the pitch of her voice could affect him in such a way made it clear that he had gotten himself into quite the predicament. Anger, he could control; he'd had a lot of practice... _Lust_, well, not so much.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Hope you liked it! We'll be seeing Amy's parents' reactions in the next chapter :-) Please review! How do you all think Derek will deal with this new aspect of his relationship with Amy?<br>**


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's note: Sooo I'm posting this from my phone because the hurricane destroyed our power. But I am one dedicated mofo so here you go (also if you're wondering why I didn't reply to any reviews this is why): Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! It really means a lot to me :-) I cherish every single review! I hope you all like this next chapter...**

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><p><strong>Chapter 21<strong>

Amy didn't know quite what to make of her current situation.

She awoke in a strangely familiar room – _Derek's _room. _I seem to be making a habit of taking over other people's beds_, she reminisced wryly, thinking back to the night she'd first (properly) met the blue-eyed werewolf.

She buried her face in his pillow, inhaling the scent; _his_ scent. It smelled like the forest and leather, with a faint trace of cologne and – what was it? – there was something distinctly charred about the aroma… But it didn't matter. She stood up and stretched her arms above her head, before taking out her phone – it was only nine. She gave herself a brief once-over in the reflection of the black screen; apparently he didn't have any use for a mirror. She didn't look so hot, but in all fairness, she'd just been through hell. Her state of disarray was somewhat excusable.

Before going downstairs, Amy took a moment to think; Derek had _kissed_ her. Like, really kissed her. With tongue. That was a big step. They practically made-out. They _did_ make-out. _He_ had initiated it! Her mind was reeling with the impossibility of it all.

Now, she wasn't about to "look a gift horse in the mouth," as they say, but she simply couldn't believe it. He was always so short and terse with her. Perhaps that was just his personality – actually, she was quite sure that it was. Plus, he _had_ said that he'd been influenced by her _signals_ (she shuddered internally at the creepiness of it all – he probably thought she was some sort of pervert). But he'd seemed pretty casual and unfazed when she'd asked him about it. Which was odd. She would have expected him to be distant and evasive.

All of this excitement had almost made her forget her impending doom, but not quite. She had to face _them_ sooner or later – she just hoped she'd live to see another day.

She walked downstairs, and was immediately confronted with Derek Hale's muscular, _tattooed_ back. He was doing chin-ups in the doorway. After she got over the initial shock of the discovery, she desperately resisted the urge to salivate at the sight of him, shirtless and sweaty. In fact, she was so dumbstruck that she failed to question why he had a spiral tattoo between his (beautiful) shoulder blades.

"Oh – er – um – sorry," she stammered comically.

He dropped down, his feet hitting the dusty floor with a soft _thud_. "You're awake," he said, stating the obvious.

"Yeah." She attempted not to stare at the exquisite model of male anatomy before her, but to little avail. It was incomprehensible to her that he could be fully healed after only a few hours.

Derek made a move to reinstate his black V-neck tee, for both their sakes; the now-familiar smell of her pheromones hit him like a brick wall. He would be glad to see her leave.

"I'm gonna head out," she said bashfully.

"Okay." He walked her to the door. As he got closer, it became painfully evident that she was panic-stricken over how her parents were going to "welcome" her home. "You'll be fine," he told her. He was standing inside the house, and she was on the porch; the doorway separated them.

She looked at him, hardly surprised that he knew what she was thinking. "Let's hope…" she murmured. "Well, wish me luck!"

"Good luck," he deadpanned.

Amy bit her lip, deep in contemplation. When she didn't budge, Derek knew something was up. Before he had time to react, however, she pressed a hasty kiss to his pursed lips. By the time he registered what had happened, she was in her car, waving to him sheepishly as she drove away. He blinked slowly, stunned, before mechanically turning on his heel and disappearing into the darkness of the old house. The door fell closed behind him.

* * *

><p>As she pulled into her driveway, poor Amy's stomach roiled with nervousness; she almost felt like throwing up.<p>

Before she even got out of the car, her parents were there.

"WHERE THE _HELL _HAVE YOU BEEN?" her mother demanded furiously.

Amy cringed. _Here we go…_

"Around," she dismissed.

Her mother opened her mouth to scream again, but her father silenced her. "Not outside," he managed through ferociously clenched teeth. "The neighbors will hear."

_Oh, God._

Once inside: "DO YOU HAVE _ANY_ IDEA WHAT WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH THESE LAST FEW DAYS? WE THOUGHT YOU WERE IN TROUBLE! FOR ALL WE KNEW, YOU COULD HAVE BEEN _DEAD! _WE EVEN CALLED THE POLICE!"

"Well, I'm fine," Amy said calmly, unperturbed by the volume of the other woman's voice. Perhaps if she didn't submit to the hysteria, it would die down…

Her father came right up to her face and slapped her clear across the cheek; she winced in pain, but tried to ignore tears gathering in her eyes. The sting wasn't as potent as her father's anger. "Don't you _dare_ speak to us like that! If you _ever_ try anything like that again," he snarled acidly, "So help me God…"

"I did it because of _you_!" she retaliated heatedly, using one hand to cradle the side of her face. "If you hadn't treated me like some sort of robo-daughter, maybe I wouldn't have run off! You only have yourself to blame!"

"I don't even know where to start," her mother said sadly, massaging her temples tiredly. She'd simmered down quite a bit from when she'd last spoken – her husband's violence seemed to have jolted things back into perspective. "This isn't you, Amy. You would never do this…"

"Well, I did," she hissed, "I don't know what you want me to do – punish me, if you want. We both know how well that worked out last time… Or y'know, just hit me again. That'll work – _that _will teach me," she snapped sarcastically. "Call me a whore and an idiot and slap me. Parenting at its finest." She didn't wait for them to reply. Instead, she spun around and headed up towards the stairs, into her room. Ian poked his head out of his lair, but even _he _looked at her pityingly.

Once she'd slammed the door shut, he crept down the stairs. The kitchen was eerily silent; neither of the Bell parents knew what to do.

"You guys handled that really badly," he commented.

"Shut up," his father growled.

"You should just leave her alone," the younger male suggested, unaffected. Ian might have been an annoying asshole at times, but, when it came down to it, he truly cared about his sister. He didn't want to see their family fall apart.

"I know her," he said, "Obviously better than you two, from the looks of things. If you just give her space, she'll come around. You're smothering her. So, she skipped _one_ class. You guys went psycho over it and look what happened!"

"Who are you to give _us_ parenting advice?" his father snapped in disbelief.

"It's sweet that you're concerned about your sister, honey," his mother amended, "But this really isn't your place."

Ian shrugged. "I just think you're making a mistake. If you push her too far, she might not come back next time." The words resonated through the house, and no one said anything else.

* * *

><p>Back in Amy's room, the girl in question lay on her bed, staring dully at the ceiling. She was not crying, she was not upset. She just felt… numb.<p>

She'd built up a big enough friend-base that she could work around this. She could work around her car being taken away, and she could work around being grounded. It would be an inconvenience, sure, but it was not crippling. Her mind raced, frantically trying to concoct some sort of survival strategy.

She was torn from her thoughts by a _whooshing_ noise at the window. It didn't take her long to piece together what was going on; it was Derek.

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't move from the bed.

"What are you doing here?" she asked serenely, resuming focus on the white expanse above her.

"I thought I'd come check on you," he said cautiously, leery of her blasé demeanor. "Just to make sure that you weren't murdered or anything."

"I'm fine."

"Your face is red," he commented.

She didn't reply.

Derek suppressed the animalistic rage than began to bubble in the pit of his stomach. "Did he hit you?" It was a simple question, delivered with out any sort of intonation. But the thought of someone hurting her made him angrier than she would ever know, which surprised him. Why should he care? What was she to him? But the urge he felt to protect her was undeniable. It had surfaced with the alpha, and it was rearing its ugly head once again.

"It's not a big deal," she said ambiguously; it wasn't the first time her parents had hit her. "It never progresses beyond a slap or two. I'm fine – every kid gets a whack once in a while."

"You're not really a kid."

"No, I'm not. But they don't seem to get that."

It dawned on her that they might hear her talking to someone, but she quickly decided that she didn't even care at this point. Hell, things would become far more interesting if they found her conversing with a wanted fugitive in her bedroom.

"You can't get out of this now, you know," he said.

"Out of what?"

"This whole… _thing. _The alpha has your scent, now. You've been marked."

"Okay? And you're telling me this why?"

"Because now you're in danger too, just like the rest of us."

"Lovely."

"Yeah."

Amy sat up abruptly. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Well, now we have to find out who the alpha is…"

"No, I mean between _us_."

Derek was somewhat taken aback. "Er… I should go…"

"No, no, no you don't. When I kissed you today you just stood there. Why? You didn't seem to have any problem with it before…"

"Amy, you have to understand that that was just a one-time thing," he said uncomfortably. "Neither of us was ourselves. That just happened in the heat of the moment…"

"But you _know_ my feelings. You can sense them. So, it's like cheating if you know how I feel but I have no idea how you feel."

"What, do you want me to be your _boyfriend_, or something?" he spat. It struck him later that it might have come off a little harsher than he'd intended.

"No," she said carefully, "That's not what I said."

"Good, because that's _never_ going to happen."

"Great," she retorted, mildly offended, "But you can't deny that there's a sort of _thing_ going on between us here…"

"It's chemical. It would be the same between any man and woman who find each other physically attractive. It's nothing to be concerned about – c'mon, surely you've kissed guys that you haven't dated before." He delivered the remark in such a way that it made her feel like he thought she got around.

"Yeah, but – "

"So there you go. But seriously, I have to leave."

Before she could respond, he was gone.

Amy threw her head back against the pillow and sighed in frustration. For a moment, she wished – she _desperately_ wished – that she had the same powers as Scott and Derek. She would have given anything to know what he was thinking – to know what he was _truly_ thinking, because his thoughts and mouth didn't seem to be working in accordance with one another.

But alas, such was not the case. She would just have to get him to warm up to her the old-fashioned way.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Lots of Derek-y goodness! I hope you all liked it! Are you interested to see how Amy will get him to "warm up" to her? ;-) <strong>

**Also, thoughts on Amy's parents? I really tried not to play up the whole "abuse" aspect of the whole thing, because it's not really abuse. I don't want her to become some poor, tortured girl with daddy-issues (I think you guys know what I'm talking about). I do NOT want to drift into Mary-Sue territory. She's clearly not afraid of him, otherwise she wouldn't have talked back. I mean, who hasn't had their parents give them a little slap on the back of the head when they've done something wrong, right?**

**And Ian? Might he have ulterior motives for getting their parents to lay off his sister? Or is he just showing his true colors? Personally, by take is that siblings love each other, even if it's deep, deep down... Based on experience, whenever I've gotten into a huge fight with my parents, my younger siblings are always extra nice because I think they feel like they have to diffuse the situation... But that doesn't mean he doesn't have a hidden agenda...**


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's note: Thank you all so much for your reviews and concern! Haha I got through the hurricane all right, I just lost electricity for the day... Which sucked big time. I actually wrote this BY HAND (shocking, I know) in the candlelight (soooo old-school) and then transcribed it on the computer... I hope you like it!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

When Amy walked downstairs the next morning, she was met with a deafening silence from the rest of the family. It was almost as if no one could bear to speak to her; not that she minded, though. She didn't want to speak to _them_, either. Without paying the three much attention, she grabbed a granola bar from the cabinet and left quickly. She didn't want to give her parents the opportunity to fabricate some sort of punishment.

As she and Ian drove to school, her brother said, "They're really pissed at you, you know."

"Oh believe me, I know…" she muttered irritably. "They made it kinda obvious, don'tcha think?"

"Where did you go?"

"None of your business."

"C'mon, I won't tell them."

"I don't trust you."

He was quiet for a moment, mulling over her words. "Why?" he asked finally.

She turned to him incredulously; "Are you serious? How many times have you tattled on me in the past, hm?"

"Yeah, well, I never _said_ I would keep any of those things a secret," he reasoned.

"I'm not telling."

"Fine, I'll find out anyway – you better believe Dad's going to pretty much trail you from now on. "

Amy resisted the urge to scoff. "Yeah, a lot of good that'll do him..." The thought of her father coming into contact with either Scott or Derek while they were in their werewolf forms – _especially_ Derek – was beyond comical. He wouldn't stand a chance; there was really nothing he could do about how his "baby girl" spent her free time. He was powerless.

"We all know you're hiding something," Ian continued, "It's obvious. You used to disappear for long periods of time and now it's turned into _days_. And I _know_ that you weren't with any of your friends, because they were all at school while you were gone. So it's got to be something else… You're not on drugs, are you?"

"_No_," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Look, why is that you're always willing to talk when I don't want to? Just drop it, it doesn't concern you."

"You still live at home, so technically you're still part of the family. I doubt Mom and Dad will think that it 'doesn't concern them.'"

"I don't really _care_ what Mom and Dad think, in case you haven't already noticed."

"Yeah, but you were never like that before. You changed in the blink of an eye. Try to see it from their perspective. They kind of have a right to be confused, Ames. You've been acting _really_ weird. Do you have a secret boyfriend or something? Is that what you've been doing?"

"Nope."

"Are you _sure_? I used to think it was that Stiles kid, but maybe it's someone else…"

"I don't. And ew. And plus, why would it need to be a secret?"

"I don't know. Is he like a lot older or something? Is he out of high school?"

"No, you sound ridiculous. There is no 'secret boyfriend.'" However, internally, Amy couldn't have been more startled by how close to the truth he actually was. But, Derek had made things clear: he was absolutely _not_ her boyfriend.

Once at school, she was confronted by more people than she actually was aware she knew:

"Hey, Amy, where were you? Are you okay? The police were looking for you, what did you do?" and the like were the sort of questions she was faced with.

Overwhelmed, she pushed past them and made her way into the Biology lab.

"How was your little slumber party?" Stiles asked in his most irritating tone.

"I'm not in the mood," Amy replied dangerously, already flustered from her previous encounters.

"But I bet you were the other night…" he commented snidely.

"Shut up!" she hissed.

"Okay, okay. But seriously, how did you parents take the whole thing?"

"Not well."

"Well, yeah, that's a given – but what did they do? How are you being punished? Grounded for life?"

"They actually didn't give me a specific punishment. I think they were too shocked by the entire thing that they actually couldn't think of anything bad enough – that's legal, anyway – to do to me."

"Lucky break," he remarked.

"For now… I doubt it'll last though."

"Well apparently you've always got the Amityville Horror house to crash at if they kick you out," he said in reference to Derek's home.

Amy shook her head. "I don't even think so… I think I burned even _that_ bridge."

"What'd you do?"

She remained quiet for a moment, too embarrassed to discuss what had happened.

"C'mon," he prompted, "you _know_ that Scott and I saw you."

"Ugh. That's so creepy. But, if you saw it, then you saw that _he_ was the one who started it, right?"

"I wasn't watching _avidly_," he replied awkwardly. "But I _guess…_"

"So then I asked him about it and he got all weird and started talking about 'signals' and just like I don't get it. For someone so concerned with signals, he's certainly sending mixed ones. One minute he's got his tongue down my throat and the next he's flipping out because he thinks I want to date him. Like, what the hell?"

"Uh, I don't think I'm the one you should be talking to about this," Stiles said, clearly uncomfortable.

"_You_ started it. Plus, who else and I supposed to talk to? Allison? No, I don't think so. She already doesn't approve of the whole thing."

"Look," he started carefully, "all I know is Scott was really freaked out by _both_ of you guys. He said that he felt like he was being forced to watch someone having sex and it was just really awkward. So, I wouldn't expect that _Miguel_ is telling you how he _really _feels. I mean, that guy has more angst than he knows what to do with. He probably has some valiant and self-destructive reason why he can't ever have another relationship for the rest of his life. And you can't really blame him – the last one didn't exactly end so well…"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But, like, I _didn't_ ask him to date me, I just asked him what we were to one another."

"Oh God, Amy, that's not a conversation that any guy wants to have…"

"Ugh, fine, but he didn't need to be _mean _about it. Plus," she added, "he told me all this after he came to my room to check on me – to make sure that my parents didn't actually kill me or something. That means he cares, right? I mean, why else would he do it?"

"Yeah, that's kind of weird," he agreed finally. "Maybe he's just conflicted."

"Maybe."

Neither said anything else and instead waited for class to begin. Amy's thoughts roamed back to Derek; perhaps Stiles was right. Perhaps he _wasn't_ ready for a relationship. But she couldn't understand his desire to push her away. She _had_ proved to him that she was trustworthy, after all. What else did she have to do?

* * *

><p>When she finally got the chance to really talk to Allison, all hell broke loose. It was after school had ended, and she caught her on the way out of the building.<p>

"Amelia Bell, why on _earth_ didn't you tell me where you were?" she demanded.

"Uh, well, I just thought Stiles would tell you that I was fine…"

"He did, but that's beside the point! You and I are supposed to be friends! We're supposed to tell each other everything! And he didn't even tell me where you were – he just said that you were fine! Seriously, you just disappeared!"

"I got in a huge fight with my parents," she explained remorsefully, "And then I kind of just took off. I didn't really want to talk to anyone… But I'm sorry, I should have told you too and not just Stiles."

"Where were you?" she asked, placated by Amy's apology.

"I went to San Francisco…"

"Alone?"

"Erm, well, not exactly…"

"_Who_ did you go with?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest. Her tone indicated, however, that she had a pretty good idea who.

"Who do you think?"

"I think it's someone not good who you should stay away from."

"Well, although that is a terribly incorrect characterization of said person, yes, I believe you are right," she said with an unconscious grin.

"_Amy_ –"

"Look," she interrupted hastily, "you don't know him. At least not like Scott and Stiles and I do. He's different with us. I'm not saying that to make you feel bad or anything, but you have to admit, your aunt is probably pretty different with you than she is with D-Miguel, right?"

"Miguel?"

"Codename. Anyway, _right_?"

"I guess," she admitted. "But he could still be dangerous…"

"I'll take my chances."

"Something _happened _between you, didn't it?" she asked knowingly. It wasn't hard to figure out – at the mere mention of the broody werewolf, Amy started grinning like an idiot.

"No," she said a little too quickly, "Why would you say that?"

"You have a look."

It didn't take much for Amy to cave in. She may have been a bit different than the average teenager (what with all the secrets that she knew and such), but she still had her moments. She desperately wanted to discuss every detail of the kiss with Allison and get her opinion, something she _knew_ she couldn't do with Stiles.

"Okay," she allowed finally. "Something _might_ have happened."

"Oh, God…"

"We kissed."

"_Just_ kissed?"

"Just kissed."

"Like a 'mwah' –" she smacked her lips "– kiss or like a _you know_ kiss?'

Amy's blush told all that needed to be said.

"Oh dear."

"Well," she amended hastily, "the second kiss was just a 'mwah' kiss."

"_Second_ kiss?"

"Yeah… But after that he got really weird and I don't know I don't want him to think that I'm clingy…"

"Amy," her friend started solemnly, her voice barely a whisper, "the fact that you got to the stage where you actually _kissed_ the elusive and intimidating Derek Hale speaks novels in its own right. I don't think this is exactly the sort of thing that you can treat like a normal relationship."

"But I really like him…"

"I don't want you to get hurt… Maybe it's for the best if nothing else comes from this…"

"You're not helping."

"I don't know what to tell you. I really wouldn't feel comfortable giving you advice on something I don't think is right," she pleaded. "I'm your friend; I'm supposed to give it to you straight, right?"

"Yeah, but you're also supposed to be supportive," Amy said cattily. "You're not my mother, I don't need your approval. Hell, I don't even need my real mother's approval. I've already made the decision to have contact with him, and I don't intend to cut it off any time soon."

"I honestly don't mean to pester you, but he just really gives me the creeps," she relented.

"There's definitely another side to him, though. Like, for instance, after I went home he came over later to check to make sure I was all right. That's sweet, right?"

"What do you mean he 'came over'?"

"Well, he came to my room…"

"How?"

"Um, through the window?"

"Oh yeah. That's totally normal. Not creepy at all. What if he does that while you don't know he's there?"

Amy snorted inelegantly. "I don't really take him for the stalkerish-Edward-Cullen type, do you? He's not exactly love-struck, as I think we've established. I'm sure he has better uses of his time."

"Yeah, like running from the law," Allison quipped in half-jest. "Plus, there's nothing wrong with Edward. If Derek were like him, I wouldn't have to worry about anything happening to you because I'd know he'd die to protect you."

"Hey, be nice," she replied with a laugh. "Plus, I'm _glad_ he's not like Edward Cullen – Derek's actually got a pair… Shouldn't you be comparing him to Jacob, anyway?"

"Whatever, you know what I mean…"

"They must really hate all the TV shows and books with werewolves in them, don't you think?" she mused.

"I've actually asked Scott about it," she said, "He said he doesn't mind it because he doesn't actually know how much of it is wrong. Derek probably hates it, though, since he already knows the truth."

"Probably," Amy agreed, "And he hates almost everything anyway, so I'd say that's a fair guess."

"Except, apparently, you," she teased.

"Well, there's a difference between not hating and liking… But anyway, are we cool?"

"Yeah, I guess. I'll support you, even if my own opinions don't exactly agree…"

"Okay, thanks," she replied, giving the other girl a hug. "We're going to need to stick together – I have a feeling a whole lot of stuff is about to happen… Did Scott tell you about the new alpha?"

"Yeah. My family hasn't figured it out yet, though. I don't want to be around when they do… None of you have any idea who it could be?"

"No… But it obviously knew Derek and has some beef with him."

"Well, where do you even start with looking for it?"

"Everyone that hates Derek, I guess… Although, that seems like it might be a long list…"

"Yeah, probably. Well, I'll obviously let you guys know if I hear anything. I've got to, though. See you tomorrow."

"See ya…"

_A very long list indeed,_ Amy thought to herself as she sat on the school steps and waited for her brother.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Sorry, no Derek :-( But, you have to admit, we've had a lot of him lately... We get to see Stiles and Allison, though! Pretty please review, guys! Everything you all tell me is really helpful.<strong>

**P.S. Zoe Katt Zypher - Thank you so much for reviewing and I'm really flattered that I'm the reason you made an account! I'd absolutely love to hear your ideas! Unfortunately, I can't PM you, though. **


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's note: Thank you so so much to everyone who reviewed! I hope you all like this chapter; I had fun writing it :-)**

**Chapter 23**

Throughout the week, Amy was swamped with schoolwork; she had a lot to catch up on to make up for her absences, and she sent in her application for Cornell on Wednesday. When the weekend finally came, she was able to breathe for what seemed like the first time in ages.

That isn't to say, though, that she was allowed to do anything. Quite the contrary, in fact – her parents had restricted her to her bedroom.

Or they _tried _to, at least. She wasn't about to put up with that, not even for a second. This "rebellious streak" had evolved into something wholly different. No, she was absolutely not going to remain in her room, in her gilded cage.

She called Stiles and asked him to park a couple blocks away from her house and act as the getaway driver.

"Why is it always _me_?" she heard him whine through the earpiece.

"Because A) you're never the one running from anything, and B) you have a car," she rationalized. "Plus," she added, "my parents don't even know you – if we get caught, they won't bitch you out."

"Can't you just take your own car?"

"They took my keys… And they hid the spare. Trust me, I looked. Unless you know how to hot-wire a car and can instruct me over the phone, we're out of luck."

"Dammit… Okay," he muttered, "I'll be there in like ten."

"Sweet, see ya," she said before hanging up. She smiled to herself. Stiles Stilinski was quite the character; he would often refuse to do something at first, but he would almost always end up doing it anyway. She briefly wondered how things were going between him and Lydia – she decided she would have to ask him about it when she saw him.

Now, Amy didn't know exactly how she intended to get down from her bedroom. Both of her parents were downstairs, and Ian, as usual, was holed up in his room. There was no way for her to sneak out the front door.

But, then again, there was always _another _way…

As she sat cross-legged on her bed, her eyes darted from her closed door to the window. The drop was only two stories, and she could use the gutter for support… And Derek had done it without any trouble at all… He might have had superhuman powers, but he couldn't _fly_.

She quickly shoved some of her belongings into her backpack and hoisted it over her shoulder; there was no telling how long she would be gone, and tomorrow was the full moon. It was best to be prepared.

After lifting the window open, she swung one leg at a time over the windowsill until she was standing on the outer ledge. She shot one last fleeting glance to the door, before shimmying over to the gutter and using it to aid her descent.

She then plopped inelegantly onto the grass and steered clear of the large kitchen window. Ducking past the side of the house, she finally made it to the street and out of any clear line of vision from inside. Not willing to risk discovery, however, she continued to where she'd said she would meet Stiles at a brisk pace.

When she arrived, his Jeep was already there, waiting. She flashed him a quick smile, before slipping into the passenger's seat.

"The eagle has landed," was his bizarre greeting.

"Hi," she replied with a mildly confused expression plastered across her features. "Talking like spies now, are we?"

"Well, I just thought it was appropriate for the situation," he joked.

Amy couldn't help but let out a laugh at his absurdity, and Stiles grinned daftly in response. It was an odd moment.

"So, is there any particular reason why you asked me to come get you?" he asked.

"No, I just had to get out of the house," she explained. "Is that a problem?"

"Not for the time being, no. But it might become one..."

"What do you mean? Can't I just hang with you?"

"Yeah, well, uh, _about_ that – I kind of have a date…" He suddenly seemed intensely focused on the road ahead of him.

"A _date_?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah."

"With _who_?" she demanded.

"…Lydia…."

"Oh my god! I've been meaning to ask you about that, actually. You guys are going out tonight?"

"Yeah."

"What are you doing?"

"Uh, miniature golf…"

Amy made a face. "That's cute... I guess…"

"It was _her_ suggestion," he said defensively.

"Interesting…" Knowing Lydia, the redhead probably had some sort of ulterior motive. _Or_ she was going to use it as some sort of testing ground…

"Yeah. So we can only hang for a few hours. Scott and Allison are coming later. And they're going to the place with Lydia and me… It's kind of a double date…"

"Oh," Amy replied timidly, suddenly feeling extremely intrusive. And also extremely left out – all of her friends were getting together, and she was the only one not invited. She knew it was a double date, but it was still obvious that they'd all avoided telling her. _So much for telling each other everything…_ "S-sorry, I didn't mean to just invite myself over – I didn't know… I just presumed…" she trailed off, becoming consumed in the examination of her fingernails.

"It's fine," he said awkwardly. It was clear that he felt a bit guilty for not having told her, but there hadn't really been any other way around it. "I mean, you could come with us if you want…"

"No thanks," she answered quickly, "I don't want to be the fifth wheel... Is Scott going to be okay?" she asked abruptly.

"What do you mean?"

"The full moon's tomorrow," she reasoned. "Won't he be a little cray-cray?" At the last word, she made a circular motion next to her head with her index finger.

"Usually being around Allison calms him down, so it should be fine… _Speaking_ of werewolf problems, why don't you go hang out with Prince Charming?" he suggested.

"You mean Derek?"

"Tomato, tom-ah-to."

"I have no car," she said bluntly. "And neither does he." All of a sudden, however, a brilliant idea entered her head.

"Uh oh," Stiles commented, sending her a wary, sidelong glance. "What is it?"

"I just had a great idea. Technically I _do_ have a car… And Derek said he was good with mechanics, right?"

It wasn't hard for the quick-witted teen to put two and two together. "You're going to steal your own car?" he stated in disbelief.

"It's not really _stealing_ if it's mine… But I still need a way of getting to his house… And then from his house to _my_ house."

"I can drop you off at spooksville later," he offered, "But from there I don't know what to tell you."

"We'll figure it out," she said dismissively as they pulled into his driveway.

"You do realize that you live next to the Argents," he warned.

"He's been to my house a couple of times already," she said, waving him off. "And the second time it was without his car, so he must have walked. Which means that there must be a shortcut or something, because driving there takes at least fifteen minutes or so."

Once inside, the pair was faced with the all-too-familiar dilemma of what to do. There were several things that they _should_ do, which included trying to figure out who the alpha was and working on their Biology project. However, they eventually settled on lounging on the sofa in the living room and watching Jersey Shore reruns.

"Sam is _so_ frickin' annoying," Stiles grumbled through a mouthful of Cheetos.

They were the picture of laziness: Stiles was leant back against the leather cushion with both of his arms extended over the top. Amy, on the other hand, was sprawled long-ways, with her back propped against the armrest and her legs draped over her friend's lap.

"Yeah, but Ronnie is such a douche to her," Amy defended before sticking a pretzel in her mouth.

All of a sudden, his phone vibrated and he sluggishly glanced at the screen. She looked at him expectantly.

"It's Scott," he explained, "He says he and Allison are coming over in a half hour."

"You should drop me off now, then… I don't want to have to explain to Allison where I'm going."

"Okay."

Stiles popped one last Cheeto in his mouth before heading out the door.

_**Several minutes later...**_

Derek was standing on his porch even before they pulled up to the house; he must have heard them coming.

"Why are _you_ here?" he asked disdainfully.

"I'm only here to drop her off," Stiles said, raising his palms innocently. Amy found it amusing how jumpy he became around Derek.

"And _I'm _here because I need a favor," she said.

He raised one scruffy eyebrow in curiosity.

"Well," Stiles started, pronouncing the word more like "welp", "I'll be going…" His amber eyes jumped anxiously between the two, before he eagerly stepped into his Jeep and drove off.

"What type of favor do you need?" Derek asked cautiously once the other male was gone.

"Do you know how to hot-wire a car?" she countered with a question of her own.

"…Yeah, _why_?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously; that certainly wasn't anything he'd been expecting her to say. He was now positive that she was going to ask him to do something that he really didn't want to do.

"Well, you see," she started ambiguously, "my parents – uh – my parents took away my keys. But my car's in the driveway. So, if you could hot-wire it, I can get it back… Which would benefit both of us, really, because in return I'd let you use it when you want… We can even keep it here – that way they'll never find it," she proposed.

Derek seemed deep in contemplation. He _did_ need a car. "Alright," he agreed finally. He didn't seem too enthusiastic about it, but, he had to admit, it could indeed benefit him as well.

"Yay!" she said cheerily, hugging him gratefully.

He stiffened uncomfortably, just like the last time. "I thought I made myself clear before," he grumbled when she pulled away.

"Sorry," she said insincerely, flashing him her most winning grin.

"We can't go yet, though; we have to wait until it gets dark."

"M'kay. How are we going to get to my house?"

"We have to walk," he stated slowly, treating her as if she was mentally impaired – how _else_ would they get there?

"Yeah, I _know_," she said in irritation, "but which way? I'm assuming we're not walking along the road, because that will take forever."

"There's a shortcut, but it'll still take like twenty minutes."

"Okay, that's fine I guess... Thanks for doing this for me," she said graciously.

"I'm not doing it for you," he clarified hastily, "I'm doing it for me."

She looked at him, unconvinced. "Yeah _okay_. Whatever."

"I'm serious," he said menacingly.

After around an hour of Amy playing Angry Birds on her phone and Derek avidly exercising (because it helped him focus his energy before a full moon, he insisted), it finally came time for them to head over to the Bell residence.

The shortcut was through the woods, which meant that they would arrive at the back entrance of the house.

"You're _sure_ you'll be able to do this?" Amy inquired, squinting her eyes and shining the flashlight in front of them. While Derek might not have needed the extra illumination, Amy certainly did.

"Yeah, I've done it before," he said casually.

"You have?"

"Yeah, a few times. It's not that big of a deal. I have everything I need," he said, pulling a screwdriver, a wire stripper, and some sort of thin metal contraption out from his back pocket to show her.

When they reached her darkened house, they saw that her silver SUV was parked in the driveway, just as she had left it. They quietly padded around the side of the house (the side _away_ from the Argent's) until they reached her car. Then, Derek took out the thin metal wire and inserted it into the keyhole. After jerry-rigging the lock, there was a popping noise and he was able to open the door.

Once inside, he unlocked the passenger's door and Amy silently slid into the seat. They then both shut the doors as noiselessly as possible, before Derek began to remove the ignition cover. His nimble hands found two red wires, and he took the plastic covering off the end of them using the wire splitters and pressed them together. Almost magically, all of the lights on the dashboard lit up. Next, he picked up two brown wires and did the same. When the lines touched, there was a spark, followed by the revving of the engine. At this success, he broke into a grin – Amy suddenly realized that it was the first time she'd seen him properly smile.

However, the mirth soon fled his face and his expression turned to one of alarm.

"Your parents heard that," he stated, rapidly pressing down the emergency brake and putting the car in reverse. He expertly stamped his foot on the gas and swung out of the driveway, but it wasn't long before Mr. Bell and his wife were on the front step, yelling furiously; Mrs. Bell had a phone in her hand. Amy ducked below the dashboard so that they wouldn't be able to see her.

"She's calling the cops," he informed her gravely as his eyes darted to the rear view mirror.

"Shit," she muttered.

A matter of minutes later, once they exited the development where she lived, a police car was hot on their tail, sirens blaring and lights flashing.

"Dammit," Derek said irately. He pushed the pedal to the floor.

When they approached Main Street, he turned sharply onto one of the perpendicular side streets, causing the tires to screech against the asphalt and several civilians to rush away from the crosswalk.

"Don't you dare ruin my car!" Amy warned.

"I'm _trying _not to get us arrested! But if that displeases you, I'll just pull over and try to explain the situation to them. I'm sure they'll understand!"

She bit her lip nervously, unable to formulate a suitable response.

The police car swerved to follow them, almost toppling over. She watched the scene in horror; her car was less aerodynamic than the cop cars, and _far_ less aerodynamic than the car Derek was accustomed to driving.

"Be careful!" she insisted in panic.

"I know what I'm doing," he deadpanned in response.

She turned behind in her seat to look out the back window. "They're still behind us! And he's using the walkie-talkie – I think he's calling in reinforcements!"

All of a sudden, her phone started ringing: it was Stiles.

"Why the _fuck_ are the cops chasing 'a silver Audi 2010 Q5 on West Main with an unidentified male driver and female passenger'?" he demanded from over the phone.

"Uhh, we got caught…" she explained sheepishly through the chaos.

"How did he know?" Derek questioned loudly.

"Tell Derek that I stole one of my Dad's walkie-talkies and I get all the calls. Allison says you and her 'need to talk'. We're at my house, waiting for Lydia, by the way. I have to say, this is far more entertaining than watching YouTube videos…"

"Ask him where the cars are positioned," Derek instructed.

"Here, ask him yourself," she said, holding the phone up to his ear.

"Tell me where to go," he ordered Stiles.

With Stiles telling him which streets to avoid, Derek's maniacal driving finally got the two police cars that had been chasing them off of their trail. They finally came to an abrupt stop at some random, deserted patch near the forest; he started driving into the woods, the headlights casting an eerie shadow on the tree trunks surrounding them.

"That was _amazing_," Amy said breathlessly once they were parked in front of his house. Her heart was beating fervently and adrenaline was coursing through her body.

"I've done _that_ before, too," he said coolly, relatively unfazed by the excitement. He was not, however, unfazed by his passenger's reaction. And he also was not unfazed by the effects of the impending full moon. The mere sound of her soft, short breaths caused his pulse to quicken.

There was an energy between them, a chemical force; it was a certain magnetism, an electricity, an inexplicable draw. It was something that couldn't be ignored, as much as he tried to suppress it. And the thrill of the chase, the silence, and the phases of the moon only worked to heighten this tension.

Derek couldn't look at Amy. If he looked at her, his already-weakened grasp of control would shatter.

But, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her studying him with interest. Her cheeks were flushed pink and she had a sort of glazed look in her eye.

And even though he didn't want to, even though he told himself that it was the wrong thing to do, he very nearly pounced on her.

Now, cars were not an ideal place for this sort of thing; or at least the front seats weren't. The gearshift dug painfully into his ribs, but he forgot about it almost immediately. As soon as his lips were on hers, everything rational seemed to melt away.

But there was too much between them. Too much _stuff_ – the armrest, the gearshift, the cup holder, and the center console were all impeding on his ability to get to her.

However, she was uninhibited and leant against the door, pulling him closer by the lapels of his jacket. She was more prepared this time. _This _time, she wasn't going to let him get away so easily.

Derek's mouth was like fire – urgent, powerful, dominating. But Amy brought down the ferocity of the kiss. She moved her open lips gently and delicately and eventually he was brought down to her speed, causing things to become more intimate than predatory.

He had been using his hands to cup her face, but he soon moved them to the widow so that he was supporting himself over her. She, in turn, moved both of her hands from his jacket and slowly trailed them up his body before settling on his face. This movement elicited a low growl from the back of his throat. They broke the kiss for air. The pair searched each other's faces through half-lidded eyes, almost drunkenly, before collapsing into a series of shorter kisses.

The car soon became unbearably hot and Derek had to remove his jacket – or, rather, _Amy_ had to remove his jacket, and he was pretty sure the windows were about to fog up.

After this brief pause to remove clothing, his lips soon found hers once again. He trailed his mouth along her jawline, settling on the sensitive skin at the crook of her neck. His teeth, lips, and tongue worked together in a perfect harmony that was sure to leave a hickey, but she didn't care enough to protest.

"_Derek_…" The noise was halfway between a whimper and a moan; it brought him back to reality_._

"What's wrong?" she asked slowly when he pulled away.

"… I don't think we should…" He cleared his throat, before continuing, "It was getting out of control… The full moon…" he said in a semi-coherent string of thought.

"O-okay…" she stuttered in an attempt to compose herself. "I wouldn't have," she started awkwardly, "I wouldn't have done anything… I'm not…" She struggled to find the words, but her train of thought eventually just tapered out.

"It's not you I'm worried about."

**Author's note: Pretty please review! This was looooong. Gotta love Jersey Shore (MTV ftw) & Angry Birds!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's note: Hey guys, I'm sososososo sorry that this took so long! Things have been really hectic with school starting and such :-( As always, muchos gracias to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you all like this one.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 24<strong>

They barely made it inside before Derek had her pressed up against the wall. So much for keeping things under control.

For Amy, all rational thought had fled her mind and the world consisted only of his lips, his teeth, his tongue, and his hands. His _hands_ – they were hands, but only tenuously so. His grip on his humanity was slipping. He moved them from just under the edge of her shirt to the wall beside her, balling his fists desperately, straining to bite back his desires. He wanted to do more than just kiss her.

It didn't do this – it never did. _He _didn't do this. The wolf didn't control him.

But he didn't relent on thoroughly exploring her mouth with his own.

Her warm hands were now underneath his own shirt, pressed flush against his chest; the sensation of her fingertips against his bare skin was mesmerizing. She felt the rumble of another low growl pass through his body.

She broke away tentatively and pressed her forehead to his, blue locking with blue.

"We should stop," she breathed amorously. She didn't want to have sex with him, and while she was aware that there were _other_ things they could do, she felt like she would forget what she truly wanted in the heat of the moment and just end up sleeping with him. There was too much chemistry between them to allow her to think logically.

"Yeah," he grit out. However, that didn't stop him from finding her lips once again, driven by primal urge. She unwillingly matched his enthusiasm as they both contradicted themselves. Amy had no idea what had come over her.

When they broke contact again, his irises were glowing through the dark.

"You okay?" she asked faintly in concern.

"Yeah," he repeated. This time, however, he actually did pull away and took a couple of steps back, as if she were dangerous. "Yeah, but you're right. We should stop."

"Is it the full moon?"

"Yeah. The moon," he said distractedly.

"Does this usually happen?"

"No," he answered genuinely, "It doesn't. I don't know why it's affecting me so much."

"Well, I wouldn't blame it all on the moon, then," she scolded flirtatiously. She traced the length of his shirt from collar to hem with her index finger, causing his eyes to flash brightly once again. "You have to take _some_ personal responsibility," she continued, biting her now-very-swollen lower lip pensively.

Amy wasn't just teasing him, though – she was serious. She didn't want him writing off what had happened between them as merely some sort of instinctual drive. Maybe he could have gotten away with that excuse the first time, but not this time.

"We're past the point where you can keep making excuses," she said quietly, more sincerely. She took his hands in hers and unclenched his fists, staring down at their intertwined fingers. Derek, too, was looking at their hands in fascination.

"I know," he murmured almost inaudibly.

"I'm not Kate," she said gravely, "You can trust me. You can let me in…"

"It's not that I don't trust you," he admitted. "I don't expect you to understand, Amy. You've never been through anything like what I have… How could you possibly understand? Just know this: it's in your best interest to stay away from me… I may be alone, but I'm not _as _alone as I would like… My uncle…"

"Isn't here," she finished. "And who know when he's going to come back? It might not be _ever_."

"He'll come back," he stated confidently. "There's no doubt about it: he'll come back. It's only a matter of time."

"You can't let that dictate your decisions, though," she tried.

"I can," he argued, "And I _should_."

"Look," she pleaded, "You can push me away, but I'm going to keep coming back as long as this _thing_ remains between us. You can't deny that there's a draw."

"I already told you," he replied, "It's nothing more than a physical attraction between two people."

"But I don't have this problem with every hot guy I come across," she refuted, "And I _know_ that you don't have this problem often, either – you said it yourself, 'this _never _happens.'"

He stayed silent, unable to deny her claim; he had indeed said that, and it was the awful truth.

"I'm done with all of this 'I'm-doing-it-for-the-greater-good' B.S.," she continued heatedly. "It's way too cliché."

"You think I'm doing this to be cliché?" he spat back with equal passion. "I'm doing this because it's the _right_ thing to do. And you know, it's damn hard to try to do the right thing when everyone expects you to do the wrong one. I don't even know why I bother…"

"Then don't. Don't bother, I sure as hell don't want you to. Do the 'wrong' thing. Give in," she pressured, taking one step closer to him with every word.

He stepped back accordingly, a pained expression on his face. "Amy…" She wasn't making this easy for him; in fact, she was making it incredibly difficult. But the moment he admitted he had feelings for her other than lust was the moment he made himself vulnerable, and the moment he made her vulnerable.

"What?" she asked sweetly.

"Stop…"

"Stop what?"

"_This,_" he said, indicating to the miniscule amount of space between them.

She had cornered him in another room, one with significantly more furniture in it. There were several old and dingy tables and chests, along with an especially tattered looking sofa. _The things I could do with that sofa_, Amy mused to herself.

"It's fine," she breathed, running her hands from his thinly-clothed shoulders to his muscular biceps, finally settling on his hands. He simply stood stock-still, like a statue, trying to block her out. This was a very foreign situation for him – he was usually the one in the predatory role, but he was distressed to note that he found this new, aggressive Amy unbearably attractive.

When it was clear that he wasn't going to respond to her advances, though, she gave up.

"Well, if that's the way you want it…" she trailed off, sadly backing down.

Derek's intense eyes bored into her; it was evident that he was torn. "You should go to sleep," he managed finally, "It's late."

"Fine," she huffed. "I'll stay down here. You go upstairs; I wouldn't want to take any _charity_ from you."

"Amy, that's not – "

"Just go," she interrupted.

He paid her one last aggrieved glance as she angrily flopped backwards onto the old cushions, before ascending the staircase. Tomorrow was going to be a _long_ day…

When Derek walked downstairs the next morning, he was able to see Amy through one of the numerous holes in the walls. She was still asleep, sprawled innocently on the sofa with one arm draped over the edge.

He couldn't help but smirk slightly, but replaced it with a scowl as soon as he realized what he was doing. _Dammit_.

She was pissed at him. It was probably for the best.

But, somehow, he couldn't help but feel dissatisfied with this new revelation. It didn't make any sense. He should want her to hate him. Her hating him would make everything infinitely easier.

But he didn't. And it was troubling.

Never one to dwell on thoughts of a more sensitive nature, however, Derek quickly left the house and entered into the bright, early morning sunlight. The cool air and smell of fallen leaves enveloped him immediately; autumn had always been his favorite season. There was something magical about the period just before everything died.

After taking a walk to clear his head, he decided to run out to get something to eat. Now, a fugitive driving a "stolen" car in broad daylight wasn't the smartest of ideas, even he had to admit… But he had a feeling that Amy might be less hostile on a full stomach. And plus, he had a talent when it came to not getting caught, apparently. (By the _police_ that is – the Argents, on the other hand, were another matter entirely).

Before he left, he went inside and changed into his most innocuous outfit; dark jeans with a light gray tee and black sweatshirt underneath his signature leather jacket. If he put his hood up, he was unrecognizable. It also helped that not many people would be able to identify him, as the police had never gotten a proper mug shot.

When he returned, Amy was not where he had left her. It wasn't hard, however, for him to figure out where she had gone. The sound of running water on the second floor – the intact half – indicated that she had found the shower.

Derek smirked to himself for several reasons, but one in particular. _One, two, thre_ – as if on cue, there was a bloodcurdling scream.

"There's no hot water," he yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

She poked her head out so he could see her. She was sopping wet and shaking, with a towel clutched to her chest (God knows where she found it – _someone_ had been scrounging around in his bedroom…).

"No shit," she hissed through her chattering teeth. Her lips were blue and he could practically see the goose-bumps on her arms, even from downstairs. He suddenly felt the almost overwhelming desire to warm her up (which he knew would be quite an easy task, given his expertise), but chalked it up to the fact that tonight was the full moon as he desperately repressed the image of her in the shower. Naked. _Oh god…_ Had he mentioned that this was going to be a long day?

She disappeared again, and several moments later she came back out fully dressed, which he was greatly thankful for.

"How the hell do you deal with that?" she demanded as she padded down the wobbly steps. "And what's the point of having running water if it's cold?"

"I run hotter than you do… Plus, sometimes a cold shower can do a person some good," he stated ambiguously, handing her the coffee he'd bought. "The warm should help," he said quietly.

"You went out?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't get caught?"

"Obviously."

"Hm. That's good, I guess. Thanks for the coffee."

"I got you a bagel too."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Wow. Thanks." From the way she responded, you would have thought he'd bought her an engagement ring.

He grunted an unintelligible response and turned away.

Amy took a bite out of her breakfast before commenting, "So, t'night's the full moon…."

"Yup."

"Am I babysitting you?"

"It's not babysitting," he grit out tiredly.

"Of course not… So am I staying?"

"Not if you don't want to, no."

"If I _do_ want to?"

"I thought _you_ were the one mad at _me_," he said, narrowing his eyes.

"And I thought _you_ thought that I was vicious seductress trying to take advantage of you."

Derek couldn't help but bark out a laugh. "_You_ take advantage of _me_? Let's not get ahead of ourselves… And I'm pretty sure I have never used and will never use the term 'vicious seductress'."

"You know what I mean."

"Not really."

"Oh, shut up," she said, trying not to smile. "So," she started after a short pause, "You said you're usually very good at controlling yourself, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Even during a full moon?"

"Yeah. I can stay this way during the full moon, but it takes a lot of effort. So usually I just change… Unless, of course, I need to stay human for some reason."

She nodded; she supposed it made sense.

They spent the rest of the day together, precariously walking the line between civil and flirtatious.

Amy was being logical; they were clearly both attracted to one another. So, she found it extremely hard to understand why there was an issue. Sure, she could comprehend why Derek was wary of a relationship (which, she wasn't really even asking for, by the way). But he seemed to be over Kate, at least in the sense of thinking of her romantically. He did not seem to be over her betrayal, however. Although, he'd said that he trusted her. That was a large leap.

This meant that the only hang up was the vulnerability aspect. The only way for this argument to be plausible, though, was if there were emotions involved. Which, she wasn't aware that there were.

On her own part, she couldn't deny that there were. She liked him. She cared about him. It was indisputable. She wasn't _in love_ with him, per say (_hell to the no_, she thought), but she definitely cared about him – past the point of a mere crush. But the fact that this was even a concern of his indicated that he may have felt similarly.

But what confused her was this: she incited a change in him – the change from man to wolf. Allison caused Scott to change in the opposite direction. And Allison and Scott truly loved one another. So, if Derek cared about her, why did her presence have a negative effect on him?

When the transformation began, she decided to test her theory. Instead of simply avoiding him and leaving him alone like she had last time, she approached him.

The whole foyer was pitch-black, with the only illumination coming from the moonlight through the windows and roofless part of the house. Derek was fully werewolf and pacing. Tentatively, Amy tiptoed towards him; as soon as he heard her coming, he snapped his head to look at her.

"What are you doing," he snarled, beginning to change back.

"No, don't," she said, stepping right in front of him. She gently placed her hands on either side of his now-scruffy face and studied his features carefully. After quickly deciding that she preferred human Derek, she brought her lips very close to his.

He tried to pull away, but she held him in place, gradually closing the gap between them. It was soon quite apparent that he was hesitant to react – probably because he was afraid of how he might respond. But Amy was very careful to keep the kiss chaste and innocent. Eventually, when she pulled away, she saw that he was back to normal and couldn't help but smile to herself.

"Why would you do that?" he asked in confusion once he'd opened his eyes.

Before she could respond, however, there was a harsh knock at the door. The pair looked at one another in panic.

"Go hide," she hissed, "I'll take care of it – I'll say I was exploring or something."

He begrudgingly listened and rushed up the stairs, ready to attack if need be.

Amy's heart was beating a mile a minute as she reached for the doorknob. When she finally gathered the courage to pull the door open, she was faced with an unfamiliar figure. Standing before her was a man – probably in his early thirties – with wavy, light brown hair and a long leather coat.

"Well hello there," he greeted with a toothy grin. "You smell like my nephew."

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><p><strong>Author's note: I hope you all liked it! We see a bit of a softer side of Derek, but not too much softer... Please reviewww<strong>


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's note: Thank you guys all so much for your reviews and support! It really means a lot to me, and I know that many people on this site are wary of OCs and such, so thank you for sticking with me thus far and even giving my story a chance in the first place. I really appreciate it :-) I hope you all like this chapter.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 25<strong>

Amy opened her mouth, partially out of shock and partially to respond. But, before any sound came out, Derek was standing behind her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked menacingly. He was in human form.

"Now, now," said Peter, "Is that any way to speak to your last remaining kin? I don't think so."

"Amy, leave," Derek ordered.

"No, no, not so fast," the older Hale said, stopping her with his outstretched arm. "I'd _love_ to get to know your little friend… Have we a new addition to the pack?"

"No, she's human. Please, just let her go."

"'_Please_'? I don't think I've heard you use that word… Well, _ever_… But she can't be just _any_ human, can she? I mean, you've obviously taken a liking to her – she's covered in you _scent_."

_God, this is awkward,_ Amy thought, trying to prevent herself from blushing. There were far more pressing matters at hand.

"She is quite pretty, though, I'll give you that," Peter continued, roughly using his hand to tilt Amy's chin upwards in order to get a better look at her. "Lovely complexion. Very fair. Almost _snow-white_. Though I suppose the proper comparison would be Little Red Riding Hood, wouldn't it? Well, never mind... And look at that, she's blushing – _cute… _I smell that you haven't even marked her as yours, either, which _means_ she's fair game…"

"Ew," Amy exclaimed, jerking away from his grasp and shrinking back towards Derek. The last thing she wanted to deal with was some pervy old man…

Peter's eyes flashed red, but he swallowed his rage. "Loyal, too," he chimed in. "Always a good quality."

"What do you want," Derek asked more calmly, keeping Amy behind him protectively.

"I'll get to that in a minute – but I'm still hung-up on this _girl_. You're even _defending_ her. As if you could… But still, the fact that you're even trying… I'm gone for a few months and this is what happens? Really, Derek, I expected more from you. I wouldn't have thought that you'd use your newfound freedom to get yourself a girlfriend. I have to say, I'm rather disappointed by your lack of ingenuity."

"She's not my girlfriend," he growled. "She's a friend of Scott and Stiles'."

"Yeah, _okay_," Peter replied sarcastically, completely unconvinced. "Stiles used to be our resident human, and he's one too many, as far as I'm concerned… Don't look so sheepish, kid; it's only natural for you to want to start your own pack. It's about damn time, actually. Wolves _are_ social creatures, after all – there's no use in fighting it. But if you really care about your little pet, you'll mark her and change her. If _you_ don't, someone else might…"

At this, Amy latched onto the back of Derek's smooth, leather jacket, as if to beg him not to let his uncle touch her. She had no idea what _"marking"_ meant, but it sounded dirty and she figured it couldn't be anything good. Plus, she didn't want to be bitten, either.

"What were you doing all this time?" Derek demanded.

"What do you think? Getting reinforcements… Didn't turn out _quite_ as I had planned, though. People can be _so_ stubborn…"

"If you weren't successful, why did you return?"

"Word on the street is there's another alpha in town. Is this true?" he asked gravely.

Derek hesitated, but ultimately replied, "Yes." Hell, if he could get them to kill _each other_… That would be by far the best course of action… He didn't even have to be involved.

Peter bared his teeth angrily, but bit back is aggression; it was not Derek he was upset with. "I see," he said through his clenched jaw. "Do you have any idea who it is?"

"No, that's what we've been trying to figure out. The other alpha only revealed itself like a week ago."

"Yeah, I can see you've been trying _really_ hard," the elder man snarled acidly.

Derek let the insult roll off him as Amy tightened her grip on his side. The warmth that radiated off of her body was strangely reassuring, despite the fact that he could feel her panicked heart thumping directly against the back of his arm.

"It attacked us for no reason," he said stoically. "We were driving into town and all of a sudden it just totaled my car, completely unprovoked."

"So it knows what you are?"

"Well, if it didn't before, it does now… I had to defend myself."

"You confronted it?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "How did you survive?"

"Amy put herself in front of me before it got the chance to finish me off… I don't think it wanted to kill a human, because that would cause a lot of problems. I think it just wants me out of the picture… Or, rather, _us_."

"She risked her life for you?" the alpha asked, surprised.

Neither of the younger members of the trio said anything, but Peter hadn't really expected a response. "I'm impressed," he remarked lightly; he didn't _sound_ very impressed. "What about Scott," he questioned after a short pause. "Has it attacked him?"

"No, I don't think Scott's even seen it. But he's a far less obvious suspect… I _am_ a Hale, after all… It's no wonder why it might go after me and not him."

"True enough," the other allowed. "You can leave now," he barked, addressing Amy for the first time in a while.

Her large blue eyes peered up to search Derek's hesitantly. "Go wait in the car," he instructed gruffly, nudging her towards the exit.

She anxiously pushed past Peter in the doorway, and he leered at her as she went. After she was out of earshot, he said, "You're going to help me find the other alpha. And you're going to help me _kill_ it."

"I thought you were focusing on the Argents – "

"I don't give a _fuck_ about the Argents," he interrupted. "I only care about that whore that used you to get to our family. And _you're_ going to help me, because this whole thing is your fault in the first place. It's the least you can do – at least try not to be a _complete_ disgrace to the Hale name, hm? And if you _don't _help me, I'm going to kill that your new friend."

"She's nothing to me – "

"Derek, _Derek_. C'mon, it's insulting. I _do_ have senses other than hearing, you know. I know she's not 'nothing' to you, it's no use lying. I understand why you're reluctant to admit it, I do. Relationships haven't exactly been your forte, have they? But you obviously don't need me to remind you of that… So, you're going to help me, or you're going to wake up one morning with her severed head underneath your sheets. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," Derek snarled dangerously.

"There's a good pup. We'll worry about _Kate_ later – humans are pathetically easy to kill, just remember that. I'll be seeing you; in the meantime, there's someone else I owe a visit…" With that, he vanished from the porch.

When she saw that he was gone, Amy exited the car and made her way back towards the house.

"What was that about?" she asked once inside.

"Nothing, he was just trying to _persuade_ me into helping him find and kill the other alpha."

"Why couldn't I hear it?"

"I don't know," he lied.

"Yeah, right… Is he using me as blackmail or something?"

"Maybe."

"_Great_."

"Don't worry, I have a plan."

She cocked an eyebrow expectantly.

"Get the two alphas to fight," he started, "And sit back and enjoy the bloodshed. _We_ don't even have to lift a finger."

"Sounds diabolical; I like it…. But how are you going to find the alpha?"

"Well, finding it in its human form doesn't really seem like the most feasible of plans. So, we'll probably have to attract it."

"How?"

"Oh, it won't be too hard. You'd better believe that other alpha's going to want my uncle out of the picture – one challenges the other, they both get beaten, one dies. We kill the remaining, weakened one and put an end to this bullshit."

"That _is_ a good idea," she admitted. "When?"

"Probably the next full moon, I'd assume. It's when they'll both be at the peak in terms of strength."

After several moments of silence, she asked, "So, where did your uncle go?"

"I think he went to see Scott to pass on the good news of his return," he said sardonically.

"Derek," she started delicately after a short pause, "what is _'marking'_?"

He cleared his throat nervously. "Why do you ask?"

"Because your uncle kept talking about it."

"It's sort of like 'marking' your territory," he began carefully, "except with people… It's like choosing your mate. If you mark someone, no other wolf will be allowed to touch them."

"I see…" she said embarrassedly. "So, how does one go about marking another person?"

"Well, it's probably exactly how you'd think…"

Amy was quiet, lost in thought. "_Oh_," she said finally. "You have to sleep with them?"

"Yeah, basically."

"So you mark everyone you have sex with? I thought wolves mated for life…" she questioned confusedly – that seemed like a bit of an inconvenience.

"They do usually, but not always… And no, not exactly. You can't – _uh_... you can't use _protection_. It has to be entirely natural."

She made a face. "That seems kind of irresponsible."

"Not really. You shouldn't be marking someone if it's a problem. The two people involved should be in a stable relationship and trust each other completely – not to mention they should be mature enough to know the gravity of the commitment they're making… But if you do just sleep with someone _'responsibly'_, it still leaves a sort of mark. They call it a provisional mark – most werewolves will respect that too nowadays, but it only lasts for like a week or so. A normal mark is permanent, or as permanent as the marker wants it to be at least. You can only mark one person at a time. When someone is marked – or even provisionally marked – they smell really unappealing all wolves except, obviously, the one who marked them." He sounded like he was reciting something that someone once told him, and she had a feeling that that "someone" had been close to him; his father, perhaps. _That's one hell of a birds & the bees talk,_ she thought wryly.

"Interesting. So only males can mark?"

"No, female werewolves can mark, too. But female wolves are more rare... Usually the pair in question is married. Ready to start a family. Ready to _breed_." He said with word with bitter contempt.

"Ew…?" She was unsure of what the proper reaction might be.

"At one point in my life," he started darkly, "I might have wanted that – a family. I mean, it's practically hard-wired in the brains of both humans _and _werewolves to want to reproduce. It's a natural drive – and a wolf's number one priority should be to want to start a pack of his own and have offspring. But I'm way too fucked up for any of that now…" he trailed off. He sounded almost disappointed in himself, as if he was betraying his kind in some way; as if he was betraying the memory of his own deceased family.

Amy didn't know what to say, and she suddenly felt like he wasn't really talking to her anymore so much as he was talking to himself. She didn't know what to make of the realization that she was now privy to some of his innermost thoughts and conflicts – she felt as if a huge weight had just been dropped on her shoulders.

"You're young," she said awkwardly, putting a comforting hand on his upper arm. "All this pain will dull eventually. You have time to figure these things out. Your uncle won't be ruling your life forever."

"That's what I'm trying for, at least…" he muttered.

She gave him a humorless smile and said, "It will all work out in the end." She didn't know if it would, or even if she truly thought it would. But, at the time, it seemed like the right thing to say.

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><p><strong>Author's note: So, a bit more exploration of Derek's character in this one. I picture him as being conflicted in many, many different senses. I mean, he would have to be after what he's been through - I really hope they delve into this more in the next season, because he's a really fascinating character. I think that he has so much depth waiting to be explored, but so far they've only hit upon the hardened exterior. It's like he<em> wants <em>to be social, but he really doesn't interact with people well... Which is why he tries to help Scott but ends up kind of scaring him off in the beginning. It's strange and really interesting. I mean, we get glimpses of all this in the show (when he saves Scott and ends up getting captured because of it - even though he always threatens him, etc.). And I imagine that family is _extremely_ important to him, and yet he really can't bring himself to have a close enough relationship with someone to constitute being part of a family. And then the whole thing with Kate when he was so young probably really effed up his view of _romantic_ relationships...  
><strong>

**So yeah! It's been a while since I rambled... But what do you think about Derek in this? And what do you think of the whole "marking" thing? Please review :-)**


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's note: SO SORRY GUYS! College is VERY VERY distracting ;-) I will really try not to take so long again, but I have SO MUCH FREAKING WORK. Not to mention I am with people ALL THE TIME - I can never find a minute to write. It's crazy. Anyway, I hope you all like this chapter...**

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><p><strong>Chapter 26<strong>

"Your uncle was just joking about the 'if you don't mark me someone else might' thing, right?" Amy asked Derek the next morning. She'd replayed that moment many times in her head; it just didn't sit right and the notion was, understandably, extremely worrisome.

"Yeah," he dismissed. To be entirely honest, he could say that his uncle's comment hadn't sat right with him, either. Before the fire, it wouldn't have even been a blip on his radar – but Peter's mind had been altered completely. Truthfully, Derek was afraid of what he might be capable of. He'd already killed his own niece – forcing himself on someone over a decade his junior didn't seem too debauched comparatively. He'd also noticed that the older man had a disturbing obsession with _skin_ since the fire – probably because his own skin had been so mangled before he'd healed himself. He didn't even want to try to imagine what horrors this new obsession could drive him to commit.

"I don't want to be marked," she stated, looking him up and down.

"I wasn't planning on it," he said, smirking at her jumpy demeanor.

"I'm not looking to be a teen mom, thank you very much," she rambled on.

"Duly noted."

"So we're just – um – good where we are…?"

"Sure."

"And – uh – where _are_ we?"

"… In my house."

"You know that's not what I mean."

"I don't know, Amy. Enough people just assume we're together, we might as well be…" he snapped.

"Do you actually mean that?" she questioned earnestly.

Derek shot her a panicked expression, like a trapped animal; he hadn't been serious. "…Uh…"

"Would it bother you if I saw other guys? If I went on dates?"

He couldn't lie to himself. He couldn't lie to her. "Yes," he said through clenched teeth. The mere _thought _of it bothered him to no end; he was sure he would attack at the sight of any male – other than perhaps Scott or Stiles – cavorting with her.

"And it would bother me if you saw other girls," she reasoned. "We don't have to define what we are, as long as you acknowledge that it's _something_."

He chewed the inside of his cheek contemplatively, mulling over the proposition. Even "acknowledging" something between them was bordering on too close for comfort. However, he eventually caved. "Fine." He'd always been a possessive person.

Amy grinned gleefully and launched herself at Derek. She knew he hated hugs (and she knew she really shouldn't be pushing her luck at this point), but she just couldn't resist. Flinging her arms around his neck, she pressed a firm kiss to his pursed lips. To her great surprise, he eventually responded by positioning his hands at her waist and moving his mouth with hers.

After they pulled apart, he grumbled, "But I'm _not_ referring to you as my girlfriend. I don't _do_ the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing."

"Fine with me," she replied, going in for another kiss. "As long as I have you all to myself…" Their lips connected, but she pulled away far sooner than Derek would have liked. "Although," she added as an afterthought, "it's not like I have much competition… Wanted criminals aren't exactly the most eligible bachelors…"

"You'd be surprised," he purred, his breath tickling her face; he was mere centimeters away.

"Is that a threat?"

"Maybe," he said before capturing her lips with his own. The kiss was deep and passionate – meaningful. But Amy had to break away abruptly once again.

"Shit, shit, shit!" she chanted in horror.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"I'm supposed to be at school! God, how did I not realize this earlier?" She checked her phone frantically, only to see that it was out of battery: _That explains it_, she thought.

"_That's _what you were thinking about?" he asked, mildly offended that her mind had been elsewhere.

"I was thinking about French class," she replied with a bashful grin.

When the realization set in, he matched her with a small smirk of his own.

"This is going to be a shit-show," she said, "My parents have probably been going mental. I almost don't want to even bother…"

"Then don't," he replied, "Stay." He pulled her closer to him once again, so that her body was flush with his.

"Such a good influence…" she murmured sarcastically. True enough, she _really_ didn't want to leave, especially now that she and Derek were on such miraculously good terms.

But her sense of duty prevailed. "I've really go to go," she insisted gravely, rushing out the door in a flurry. Once inside her car, she plugged in her iPhone and prayed that she would be able to regain at least a little bit of charge.

* * *

><p>When she arrived at the hulking building, she scrunched her eyes shut and pushed through the doors without much meditation; the more she thought about this decision, the less appealing it seemed. However, she couldn't very well disappear off of the face of the earth, either – her options were limited.<p>

Before she actually amassed the amount of bravery required to step inside, she texted Stiles; _I just got to the school_, she typed on the touch-screen keypad. Without further delay, she pushed the door open.

It wasn't so much that she was worried about her teachers; no – she was worried about her parents finding out that she was there. If they had indeed called the police (again), the school would surely have been alerted. They might notify her parents that she was there, and that would most certainly end badly. Not to mention, her "stolen" car was parked in the student parking lot…

Any way you sliced it, this was bound to produce a bad situation.

Amy entertained the idea of going to class late, but she soon came to the conclusion that she would instead wait for the next one to start. She sat on the foot of the staircase and surveyed the deserted halls. It was eerie, she thought, to see a place that was usually so full of life completely empty.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps echo through the corridors. As they grew closer and closer – towards the senior lockers – she began to feel concerned and anxiously toyed with the hem of her gray knit sweater.

It was Stiles.

"DUDE," he exclaimed upon seeing her.

"Peter's back!" they said simultaneously. "How do you – " the pair continued in unison, "– you first."

"He came to Derek's while I was there," she eventually whispered once the confusion had died down.

Stiles nodded solemnly. "He went to see Scott, too…"

"So…"

"So," he mimicked.

"Thoughts?"

"This is bad. Really bad. Not to mention, YOU HAVE BEEN M.I.A. – AGAIN – FOR DAYS."

"Yeah, sorry about that… My phone died."

"You were with _him_ the entire weekend?"

"Yup."

"My dad's getting tired of dealing with your parents' panicked phone calls at like five AM."

"Sorry, they need to chill. But it's not _my _fault they're spazzes…"

"It's your fault for running away," he reasoned.

"Not my fault that they're psychos, though," she countered. "Maybe if they acted like normal human beings I would stay. But such is not the case…"

"Anyway: Peter went to his house… And saw you?"

"Yeah. It was weird. He was really creepy about the whole thing and he kept talking about 'marking' – _don't_ ask – and then he just peaced."

"What's marking?" he questioned, furrowing his brow.

"I said don't ask!" she protested in exasperation.

"Yeah, so obviously now I have to."

She sighed deeply. "It's a _long_ story. Basically it's like marking your territory, or at least that's how _he_ explained it. Pretty much you have sex with someone and then they become unappealing to others."

"I see," Stiles said carefully, making an expression of disgust. "That's really sketchy."

"Yeah."

"So, does Derek have a plan?"

"As a matter of fact, yes… Since Peter wants to find the other alpha, Derek thinks that we should just let them find each other and fight it out amongst themselves… One is going to have to die – but the one who wins will be really weakened afterwards, and that's when he wants to attack."

"Wow, I have to admit, that's actually a pretty good idea."

"I know, right? He says we'll have to wait 'til the full moon, though."

"Whoa… That's like a month from now. What are we supposed to do until then?"

"I don't know, just hang tight I guess? What else _can_ we do?"

"True. Still, don't you think we should try to find out who the other alpha is?"

"I mean, I guess… Just, like, I don't want to cause any more trouble than necessary."

"Yeah, I know… But what if it's someone important or someone we know?"

"Whoever it was tried to kill Derek. In my book, that makes them an enemy and they deserve what's coming."

"But they _didn't_," he rationalized, "Derek's fine. Don't you think that if they _really_ wanted to kill him they would have?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't matter. They hurt him, and I don't ever want to see anything like that happen again."

"You really like him?" Stiles murmured – it was more of a statement than a question.

Amy nodded bashfully, averting her gaze. "He's not the monster everyone thinks he is – not even close."

"He must like you a pretty good amount, too," he continued thoughtfully. "Otherwise he wouldn't have allowed you to get so close. I'm kind of surprised – I never took Derek for the type to grow attached."

She shrugged. "I mean, it's pretty much ingrained in his mind that he shouldn't be alone; he's just fighting nature, and it's a losing battle. Plus, he fell for Kate before…"

"That _is_ true," he conceded, "I just didn't really think people recovered from that sort of thing…"

"Yeah, but it was a really long time ago. She betrayed him, but he knew she was an Argent going into the whole thing. He knows I would never do that – I have no motivation to. He knows he can trust me."

"So, are you guys, like, a couple?" he asked incredulously.

"No, I mean, well… not really. He doesn't want to label it."

"How _avante-garde_," he said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

"Hey, it's not as if this is a normal situation in any other way, either. I honestly don't mind it – I thought I would, but I don't. As long as he's not seeing other people, I'm fine."

"What are you going to do about your parents," he asked finally.

"I seriously don't know," she said sadly. "I can't go back there. I just can't. I'm gonna stay with Derek for as long as possible, I think. I just need my stuff…"

"You _know_ they're not just going to let you move out."

"Yeah, I know. But there's really nothing they can do about it. I'm eighteen. I can do what I want. I may need their money, but not if I'm living with Derek… Just as a side note, I get the feeling he's loaded – I mean, think about it: an entire family's worth of money left to two people – he _has _to be. And it doesn't look like he's spent any of it, either…"

"Get your gold-digger on," Stiles joked.

"Shut up," she laughed, "You know that's not what I mean. If it comes to it, I'll even go to court. They honestly have no legal authority over me."

"But you'd just cut ties with them completely?"

"It's not like I really have another choice…"

Just then, the bell rang and people began filing into the halls; Amy and Stiles would have to continue this conversation another day. She had yet to figure out how to get her belongings from her room, and now the teenagers were engaged in a nerve-racking waiting game. The full moon couldn't come soon enough… But a month was a long time.

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><p><strong>Author's note: I hope you all liked it! Again, I am so sorry that this took so long. Please don't hate me. Pretty pretty please review?<strong>


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's note: Hey guys, I'm baaack. As always, thank you all SO MUCH for the reviews. Sorry again for the delay :-( I'm crazy busy still and pretty soon I'll have 695906 bazillion papers due/exams. So, it'll probably be a while again. Anyway, I hope you guys all like this chapter. I'm sorry it's very quickly becoming the Derek/Amy show, but I think it's kind of necessary for now... I hope you all like this chapter!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 27<strong>

Amy left school early, her fear of being discovered driving her to a state bordering on paranoia. She'd wanted to stay late in order to talk to Allison (she'd skipped lunch so as to avoid a scene), but abandoned this hope the moment she saw Ian pass by from the opposite end of the hall; luckily, he didn't see her.

It dawned on her, as she walked through the quiet parking lot to her car, that she'd more or less just informed Stiles that she and Derek were living together. It also struck her that she needed his help – Derek's, that is; she needed him to help her break into her bedroom. She wondered which of these two things she ought to bring up first when she spoke to him next, but she couldn't imagine he'd be particularly keen on either of the notions.

After she entered the car, she checked her missed calls. There were a staggering one-hundred-and-three from her parents, and quite a few from Allison as well. Amy knew that the latter was most likely aware of the current predicament, so it was no wonder that she wanted to get in touch with her. She was also quite sure that her friend would now be even _more _disapproving of the youngest Hale, if that was possible.

The air smelled distinctly of crushed leaves as she crunched her way through Derek's ill-maintained yard. Her backpack was heavy and she only half-expected him to be inside.

As she trudged up the creaky steps, her phone started to ring: it was Allison.

"Why did you leave so early?" she demanded.

"Hello to you too…"

"Seriously, why did you leave? What's going on with you? Why aren't you going to your house?"

"_Because_ my parents are crazy," she explained warily; Amy was truly growing tired of constantly having to reiterate this truth.

"They're just worried about you," Allison said exasperatedly, "like everyone else – and with good reason, too. _I'm _worried about you. Granted, your parents don't even know about the Derek sitch…"

"And they're not going to find out," the other girl interrupted hastily. She may have wanted to put her parents through a bit of a rough patch, but she didn't want to _kill_ them… She was sure that at least one of them would have a heart-attack if they knew that their daughter was romantically involved – and _living_ with (though he might not know it yet) – a fugitive. "Look, Al, I appreciate your concern – I really do – but you have enough to worry about in your own life. I'm talking about the Scott/werewolf hunting family here. You've got enough on your plate as it is, so just leave my life to me, okay? I'll be fine. I trust Derek; I trust him as much as I trust you or Scott or Stiles."

"Yeah, but – "

"No buts! I know you don't think he's a good guy, but _I_ know for a fact that he is. That's going to have to be enough."

There was a momentary silence at the other end of the line. "Alright," the other girl agreed finally, defeated. "You're right – it's up to you what you do with your life. Just don't say you weren't warned…"

"I won't. Now, I have to go. I'll talk to you later. And if my parents ask about me, say that you don't know where I am but you know I'm fine, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Talk to you later, Ames."

"Bye."

Amy let out a deep sigh. She hated to be the cause of so much drama, but, in all fairness, everyone was freaking out over nothing. Honestly, all she was doing was taking control of her own life. She was an adult; everything she was doing was perfectly legal and acceptable. She couldn't understand why it was such a big deal.

"Yo, Derek, are you here?" she called once she entered the house.

"Well, well, well," said an unfortunately familiar voice. The sound sent an icy wave of fear down her spinal column and her stomach dropped. It was Peter.

He soon came into view, and Amy demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"This is _my_ house too, you know," he chided, wagging his finger at her. With each step he took forward, she took two back.

"No it's not," she stated, trying not to let her terror show. She knew it was futile – that he could hear her heart racing – but her own pride wouldn't allow her steely demeanor to falter.

"Oh, but it is."

In a sudden flash, Derek was there. He'd come from outside, where he'd spent the earlier part of the day working on his battered Camaro. He immediately positioned himself between them protectively.

"What's going on here?" he demanded menacingly, his electric blue eyes darting quickly between Amy and his uncle.

"Nothing," Peter replied innocently, "Nothing at all."

"Why are you here?" he asked bluntly.

"Where _else_ would I be?" the other countered acidly, treating his nephew as if he were mentally impaired.

"I don't know, but I thought I made it clear earlier that you're not welcome here."

In a blink of an eye, Peter had a hold of Derek's lapels and was slamming him into the wall. "Listen here, kid," he snarled venomously, "you're getting a little too big for your britches. _I _call the shots around here, understand? _You _answer to _me_. So, if I want to stay in this godforsaken wreck of a ruin, I will. I do as I damn well please, got it?" On that note, he released the younger man and brushed his long leather coat off carelessly, as if nothing had happened.

Derek stayed quiet, but it was clear that he was trying desperately to suppress his rage. His fists were clenched and his talon-like nails were digging painfully into the heels of his hands; tiny droplets of crimson blood began to drip down onto the dusty floorboards. Amy went to his side and weaved her arms around one of his biceps in a fruitless attempt to calm him down.

When it became evident, however, that Derek was not going to attack, Peter said, "Good." He then strolled leisurely up the treacherous staircase and disappeared from view.

"Let's get out of here," Derek growled, still struggling to keep his temper in check.

Amy nodded as they both stepped over the threshold and into the cool afternoon air.

"Just let it go," she said softly, her eyes fixed on their feet.

"He's just –"

"I know," she cut him off, "I know."

"I _cannot_ wait until the full moon," he hissed under his breath so that Peter couldn't hear from inside.

"Yeah."

"So," he said more evenly. "Why are you here?"

"Wow. Why do I _always _get that response?"

"I don't know, because you're always here?"

"Don't sound so disappointed," she murmured. She hooked her fingers over the waistband of his dark jeans and pulled him closer, still not meeting his gaze.

He smirked at her, but didn't seem fazed by her advances. "Seriously though," he said, "Are you ever planning on going home?"

"About that…" she started slowly, finally bringing her eyes up from the ground.

He raised an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for her to continue.

"Um, you see, um," she stammered, "_well…_"

"You want to stay here?" he finished. It was becoming too painful for him to listen to her ramble on awkwardly.

"In a word, yes…"

He thought it over for a moment, before replying, "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing, my murderous uncle is living here… Not exactly a safe environment."

"Trust me, it's safer than my house…"

"C'mon, realistically, what are your parents going to do to you?"

"I don't know, but I _do_ know that it will definitely mean that I won't be seeing you anymore."

"Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?" he mumbled, linking his hands behind the small of her back and pressing his hips to hers.

"No," she affirmed confidently.

"I guess you can stay here for a little while then," he allowed finally. "At least until this whole thing blows over. God knows, you're probably safer here than you would be at home… At least if the other alpha comes looking for you, you'll be protected."

"It would come looking for me?" she asked worriedly.

"Who knows – it might. It has your scent now, after all, and it knows that you're involved in this whole thing… It's not exactly something you'd want to chance, anyway. At least if you're here it'll redirect its violence towards me or my uncle and ignore you… So yeah, it's probably better if you stay."

"That's what I like to hear," she said with a grin. She gave him a short peck on the lips, before continuing, "There's something else…"

Derek looked at her impatiently and tried not to groan. "What," he asked bluntly, dreading the answer.

"Well, uh, you see," she started in a familiar fashion, "there are some things I'm going to need from my house… Some very _essential_ things, namely my cell-phone charger."

"Okay?"

"Well, I can't exactly just walk through my front door and mosey on up to my bedroom to get them!"

"I'm not seeing how this involves me…"

"You're stealthy and sly and all that, right? Can't you do it for me? Please? _Pretty_ please?" She chewed her lower lip and tried to look as convincing as possible, peering up at him hopefully through her large blue eyes.

"Ugh."

"_Please_?"

"… _Fine_," he agreed begrudgingly. "But you have to come with me, obviously. And you have to choose a time when they won't be home."

"Well, that's just it – usually someone's always home."

"Well try to do it when your dad's not home, then."

"During the school day would probably be best," she thought aloud, "Neither my dad nor Ian will be home… It'll just be my mom… And maybe we can catch her when she's going to the store or something."

"Alright. I can't believe I'm actually going to do this…" he muttered darkly. Amy was surely having a much more profound affect on him than he'd anticipated.

She smiled at him again, but didn't say anything; she didn't want to press her already-unbelievably-good luck.

* * *

><p>The next day, he drove her car to her house. He still couldn't comprehend how he'd gotten himself into such a situation, how he'd ended up helping this precocious eighteen year old. How he'd developed <em>feelings<em> for her. It was unfathomable that he could ever grow to like such an ordinary girl, and yet here he was, helping her move out of her own house so that she could instead live with _him_.

Amy sat silently in the passenger's seat. She, too, was in awe of the circumstances. Mere months before, she'd been an absolutely model child: a good student, a kind person. Oh, how far she'd fallen. Or, perhaps, she'd not fallen at all. Perhaps she'd awoken. Perhaps she'd finally realized who she was – that's how it seemed, at least. If felt as if she was finally achieving her full potential, as if she'd finally broken free of her parents' shackles. It was liberating.

This was a bit of an overstatement, maybe, but there was a grain of validity in her exaggerated musings. She was certainly developing into her own person, that much was entirely true.

When they approached her house (they'd parked a safe distance away so as to not be recognized), Amy felt a strangely unexpected wave of guilt pass over her.

But she ignored it.

Instead, she watched, her head tilted upwards towards the sky, as Derek scaled the side of her house. She'd given him a list of things she needed, along with a note that he was to leave on her bed. She couldn't risk going inside herself – her mother was home, or at least her car was parked in the garage – so, Derek would have to fare on his own.

When he had collected all of her belongings in a backpack and an overnight bag, he swung the backpack over his shoulder and tossed the overnight bag down to Amy. Then, he gingerly placed half a sheet of lined paper on her bedspread. The note read:

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_I wish you wouldn't worry about me, I'm fine. I promise I will continue to go to school and keep up with my studies, but you, in turn, need to promise me that you will let me go. Technically you have no legal authority over me anymore. I completely understand if you cut me off – I know I would if I were you. _

_I'll probably come back eventually, but right now I think it's best for all of us if we have some time apart. I need some space – I need some time to find myself._

_Again, you really don't need to worry about me. I'm completely safe, and I'm not alone. Nothing bad is going to happen to me. Please don't try to pressure my friends into telling you were I am, they don't know either. And please don't keep calling the police. I'm not a missing person, and, since I'm eighteen, they can't make me go back home. Just let it go. I'll come back when I'm ready._

_I know this is a lot to ask, and I know that you don't think this sort of thing happens to "good parents," but I hope you'll realize that I'm not really doing this because of you. I'm doing this because of me. _

_I still love you, even though you guys can be crazy. You'll see me soon, but please, PLEASE, don't freak out when you do._

_Love,_

_Amy_

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><p><strong>Author's note: So there you go! Kinda anticlimactic, I know... But the next few chapters will be a bit more calm... The calm before the storm again, you know. At least, they won't be violent. But things will probably heat up between Amy and Derek ;-) Pretty pretty please review! <strong>

**Oh yes, this is a bit random, but I just posted a Doctor Who one-shot. So, if any of you guys watch the show, you should read it! :-p**_  
><em>


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's note:** **Hi guys, I'm really sorry it's been so long! I'm afraid schoolwork and the like are to blame for my long absence (and my bizarre sleeping schedule). But never fear, I will not abandon this story! I hope you all like this chapter! :-)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 28<strong>

Everyday life had become quite strange for Amelia Bell. Cohabitating with two werewolves – one of which was a known murderer, the other only an alleged one – was a very unorthodox experience, to say the least. She'd tried to preserve her daily routines, she really had, but such a feat had proven itself to be almost completely impossible. Her number one priority was still school. She knew that she couldn't allow her grades to slip, not at such a crucial time. If she lost her academic standing, she would lose more than just her chance at a good college; she would lose her pride, too.

But, needless to say, it was difficult to balance a rigorous course load with a smoking-hot werewolf boyfriend (using the term loosely – she would never outwardly refer to him as such. The word _boyfriend_ would send him into a distinctly masculine sort of panic).

And, as the full moon was now only a little over a day away, Derek's – _ahem_ – "willingness to be around her" was escalating. The difficulty he'd had resisting her in the past didn't even compare to what he felt now – now that they knew each other better, in every respect. Every respect except _one, _that is. One very important and very _appealing_ respect. She had to admit, he'd been patient. Very, very patient. Much more patient than most other guys would have been. But, that said, his patience was waning. And the fact that she was around, tempting him almost incessantly, wasn't helping matters.

She sat cross-legged at the end of his bed, hunched over her laptop, hardly engaged in any sort of seductive pose. But, before she even knew what was happening, there was a whooshing noise and she felt the scruff of his stubble grind against her neck.

"What are you doing?" she breathed in half-surprise. She nevertheless tilted her head to the side, unwittingly giving him better access to her sensitive skin.

"What do you think?" he mumbled, the proximity of his low voice sending vibrations through her body.

"I have a paper to write," she groaned ruefully, pulling away.

"Can't it wait?"

"No... It waited yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that…" she trailed off with an involuntary grin plastered across her face. She tilted her head back and peered up at him upside down.

"Really?"

The face he was making was _extremely _hard to turn down, but Amy was strong-willed.

"Yup. I'm sorry, but I really need to do this… Later?" she inquired hopefully.

He nearly scoffed. "What, you think I'm gonna say no?"

She chuckled and replied, "Hey, you never know. You might get bored of me."

"I wish…" he murmured under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," he dismissed.

"The full moon is tomorrow," she stated gravely, seemingly out of nowhere.

"I'm aware."

"Just reminding you. You know what happens…"

He shushed her urgently. "Don't you know he can hear you?" he mouthed soundlessly.

"_Meaning_," she elaborated lamely, "that you will have to take the necessary precautions…"

He rolled his eyes; she was hardly making a convincing argument. But he wasn't in the mood to argue.

"Look," she said finally, "the sooner I get this done, the sooner I will be free to do _other things_." She raised her eyebrows at him suggestively and Derek got the message immediately.

He cleared his throat and replied, "I'll leave you to it, then." With that, he was gone in a flash, and he didn't even know the true meaning in her words...

When she had finally finished her work, Amy padded down the dilapidated staircase and into what was once the living room.

"What are we eating tonight?" she asked Derek, who was on his own computer.

He turned around quickly. "I don't know, what do you want?"

"Wanna get takeout from somewhere in town? You can just wait in the car to avoid being arrested…"

"Sure, whatever."

"Don't sound so ecstatic," she drawled sarcastically.

Derek peered back at her stoically, but nevertheless followed her out the door and into the woods where her car was parked.

Once they were both inside, Amy threw the car into gear and sped away recklessly.

"I don't know where you get off thinking you can drive like this," Derek deadpanned.

"What do you mean?" she demanded, mildly offended.

"I mean you don't really have the driving skills to be going 60 in a 25 mile-per-hour zone. You need to have great reaction time, which you don't. You've been driving for what, two years? It's dangerous for you to be going so fast."

"You're not seriously going to lecture me right now, are you? You're beginning to sound like my mother. I'm a great driver."

Derek made a face of utter disdain. "If you get in an accident, you'll be killed," he stated matter-of-factly.

"I've never gotten in an accident. The only accident I've been in, _you_ were the one driving."

"That wasn't exactly anything I could control, was it? If the same thing happened to you, you'd be screwed. Plus, like I said, you've only been driving for a little while. I've had many more opportunities to get into accidents than you have. The probability increases the more you drive."

"Probability? Slow down there, this is getting a little too complex for me…"

Derek didn't laugh, but he couldn't suppress the small smirk that had made its way onto his lips.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Amy parked the car at the far end of the parking lot where no one would walk by.

"I'll be right back," she said, opening the door. "I'll leave the keys here, just in case."

Derek nodded curtly in understanding, but didn't say anything in response.

When Amy returned with a large paper bag in tow, she saw that he hadn't moved from where she'd left him and was currently engaged in a game on his cell phone.

"Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" she asked lightly.

"Nope," he answered dryly. "Let's get out of here, I'm tired of sitting around."

"Your wish is my command," she said as she put the keys in the ignition.

The drive back to the Hale residence was a short one, and, as the night progressed, Amy was becoming more and more nervous.

"What's bothering you?" Derek asked abruptly as he put the food on the counter of the darkened and weathered kitchen.

"Nothing," she answered a little too quickly.

"Don't lie," he scolded. "I _know_ something's bothering you. It started this afternoon," he observed, narrowing his eyes and stepping closer to examine her.

"I'm fine. Don't be ridiculous." She refused to make eye contact, which only furthered his suspicions.

"You're nervous about something." It was a statement, not a question.

"No," she insisted.

"Yes," he pressed, cornering her against the counter.

"Trust me," she breathed, "it's nothing. Everything will make sense soon enough."

He furrowed his brow quizzically.

"Plus," she continued, "I'm hungry." She moved past him and began rummaging through the paper bag, removing its contents.

Derek watched her like a hawk throughout the meal. Every tick, every hesitation, he took notice of. It was quite unnerving to be surveyed so intensely, Amy soon found.

"Can you stop looking at me like that," she said through a mouthful of spaghetti, "It's creeping me out."

He tore his eyes away from her and instead focused on his own food. "Amy, if there's something bothering you, you can just tell me…"

"_Nothing_ is bothering me! Sheesh, just cut it out."

Finally, he seemed to drop the subject.

In reality, the more he asked her what was wrong, the more nervous she became.

"It's just," she started, trying to come up with some sort of excuse, "It's just… Tomorrow could go either way – no matter what, people are going to get hurt," she continued, conscious that his uncle might be listening, "People are going to die. To think… To think that one of those people could be you… It's not something pleasant to contemplate, let's just leave it at that."

"Then don't think about it," he said detachedly.

She shot him a disapproving look, put off by his stoic demeanor.

"Easier said than done," she mumbled, turning her attention towards the floor.

He seemed to realize his misstep, and tried to amend, "This isn't about me tomorrow… It's going to be the two alphas. I don't really have to be that involved. Same with Scott."

He said the last part in a way that made her think he was almost testing the waters, trying to see if she was as concerned for her friend as she was for him.

"I know that," she said, "But I'm still worried. Is that weirding you out or something?"

"No," he scoffed defensively, as if something as simple as her worrying could faze him.

She moved closer, and gently inquired, "Is it strange to you that I'd be concerned for your safety?"

"No," he repeated bluntly, eying her warily.

"Then what's the problem?" she asked in a sultry tone.

"There is no problem," he stated, turning to face her as she drew even closer.

"Good," she said in attempt to fill the silence. She lightly trailed one hand along the stubble on his jaw line.

Derek finally seemed to understand were this conversation was headed and let out a low, growl-like noise and clenched his eyes; it seemed as if he was waging some sort of internal battle, and Amy suspected it had something to do with the full moon. She hesitantly tilted her face towards his, positioning their lips so that they were only centimeters apart.

"Don't start something you can't finish," he warned gruffly. Everything was heightened on account of the full moon, and Amy knew that.

"I'm not afraid," she breathed. The words had just barely left her mouth when Derek kissed her full-force. He hoisted her onto the counter as she wrapped her legs around his waist and wove her hands into his spiky dark hair. Their mouths fought, and the kiss was so heated that it threw them into complete chaos. Amy moved her lips from his and trailed them down to his neck. After a few seconds, she brought her mouth to his ear and whispered one word that sent a volt of electricity through his bloodstream: "Upstairs."

He didn't need to be told twice.

He was suddenly very thankful that he could move so quickly, and soon they were in his room and on his bed, the door firmly shut.

As he hovered above her in the dim light of his bedroom, he couldn't help but pray he wouldn't let himself get carried away. She let her hands drift down the front of his torso, before wandering tantalizingly under his shirt and lifting it over his head. The feeling of her skin against his, even for this brief moment, was enough to send shockwaves through his body. Once this task was completed, she sat up and let him do the same to her.

He toyed with the clasp at the back of her bra as she began undoing his belt. _Fast, fast, fast, more, more, more_. Everything was a haze, a blur. He couldn't see clearly and everything was spinning, like he was drunk.

He stopped her abruptly: "Wait," he grunted, "You have to be sure. I don't know if I'll be able to stop…" He wouldn't be able to stop. Who was he kidding? He had waited so long for this and finally, _finally_, he was getting what he wanted. He wouldn't be able to stop himself normally, let alone on the eve before the full moon...

"I'm sure," she affirmed, her eyes flickering shut. She arched her back and pressed her body to his, giving him all the encouragement he needed.

It hurt at first, like Amy suspected it would. But the pain didn't last too long, and finally she discovered for herself what all the fuss was about. Derek was as gentle as could be expected, but it was quite apparent that he was trying hard to restrain himself. His nails turned to claws as he gripped the headboard of his bed, creating ten indentations in the wood. His eyes, when they weren't shut, glowed a bright blue.

* * *

><p>When Amy awoke, she was disoriented and confused. She was nestled up against something very, very warm, which she soon identified as Derek. The previous night's events came flooding back to her, and she couldn't help but smile to herself. She turned to her right, and saw that her partner in crime, too, seemed content in his slumber.<p>

However, this moment of happiness was short-lived; she soon remembered that she had to go to school in order to turn in her paper. She sprung out of bed and got dressed, before pressing a short kiss to Derek's cheek and rushing downstairs.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Hope you all liked it!<strong> **I'm sorry to say that this is pretty much as smutty as I'm going to get; ALTHOUGH, I would like to extend the opportunity to any of you, my dear readers, to write a more - ahem - _M rated_ scene between Amy and Derek. If there's any interest, just message me and you can either post the story or I can do it (giving you the due credit, of course). I don't know if people do this on this site, but I just thought I'd put it out there. Anyway, I hope you all liked the chapter! Pretty pretty please review!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's note: Hi, everybody! Sorry for the wait! Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed so far, it really means a lot! I hope you all like this chapter :-). Oh yeah! And also, I've posted a new story! It's for the show Misfits, I don't know if many of you watch it. If you do, I'd be much obliged if you check my story out!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 29<strong>

Derek awoke an hour or so after Amy had left, feeling quite satisfied with himself. He stretched his arms over his head and inspected the damage he'd done to his bed, before slipping out from under his messy sheets and heading downstairs. Peter was in the kitchen, sipping coffee from a mug.

He took one look at his nephew and said, "So, you finally sealed the deal?"

Derek bit back the urge to growl angrily and instead grit out, "That's none of your business."

The elder Hale raised his eyebrows, but didn't press the issue. "Tonight's the night," he said.

Derek didn't need to be reminded. "I know," he stated.

"I hope you're ready. This isn't going to be easy."

_I'm readier than you'll ever know_, Derek thought to himself. "I understand."

Then, he walked outside to get some fresh air, letting his thoughts wander to Amy and the night before. The progression of their relationship had been slow, slower than he would have expected. She was a teenager, after all, and high school romances peaked and ended in less time than they'd been "together." Truthfully, Derek didn't really think of Amy as his girlfriend. That's certainly not to say, however, that he didn't care about her – quite the contrary, in fact. He believed that their relationship was too unique to for him to consider her his girlfriend; the circumstances were too unusual. Perhaps it was on account of the full moon or the _step_ they'd taken the previous night, but his feelings for her were much stronger than they'd ever been.

In fact, they were approaching his former feelings Kate, except they were devoid of the blind devotion that compelled him to ignore her shortcomings. In retrospect, the signs had been there. Kate had taken far too great an interest in his family from the beginning; he'd just been too enamored with her to see them. And this realization only made the guilt worse… But that chapter of his life was over, and he could only move forward. Amy had never given him a reason not to trust her, and, as horrible as it sounded to admit it, he wore the pants in the relationship. With Kate, it'd been the other way around.

Bearing these thoughts in mind, he stormed off into the woods to prepare for the coming events. When night fell, everything would change.

_(Meanwhile, at school…)_

Amy rushed down the hallway to her first period class; she was late, as always. She burst through the door and remorsefully exclaimed, "I'm so sorry!" to her teacher.

After a few hours of being at school, she noticed that Scott and Stiles were conspicuously missing. So, at lunch, she asked Allison where they were.

"No clue," she replied, "Up to no good, no doubt."

Amy took this opportunity to subtly text Stiles: _yo where you guys at?_

"So," Allison said, "You've sure been MIA lately…"

"Yeah, sorry about that," Amy apologized. "I've just been really swamped with stuff. College essays and such. Plus living with you-know-who and all that. Things have been hectic."

"Yeah, I can tell…"

"You're not mad, are you? I really am sorry."

"I don't know, I just thought that you might have time to let your best friend know what's going on with you. I mean, we've hardly talked in like a month, and you know how I worry about you and the you-know-who situation."

"Yeah, I know. But everything's going well on that front. Like, _really_ well. Better than ever."

Allison raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean '_really_' well?" she questioned suspiciously.

Before she could answer, Amy's phone buzzed with a text from Stiles; it read: _prepping._

"Hm?" her friend pressed after a moment.

"What?"

"What did you mean when you said 'really well'?"

"I don't know, just that things are pretty good. We're not fighting or anything…"

"Have you… _you know_…?"

Amy felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Well, we've been living together for like a month…"

"You _have_!" Allison exclaimed in a way that made her sound much more like Amy's best friend than her nagging mother.

The other girl bit her lip and nodded sheepishly.

"And you didn't tell me!"

"Sheesh, calm down! It only happened yesterday…"

Again, Allison looked surprised. "Wow, you guys waited a long time…"

"Yeah, well, it was my decision. He didn't pressure me or anything – he was actually really sweet about the whole thing."

"Him? Sweet?" she said in disbelief, "I can't really see it."

"Well, I'm telling you, he was."

"I guess I'll just have to take your word for it," she replied.

Just then, Ian suddenly appeared at the table. Amy turned as saw him standing right beside where she was sitting and almost jumped ten feet into the air.

"Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed, startled.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked bluntly. Although his words were accusatory, there was little emotion in his tone. Allison took this as her cue to get up and leave the table, allowing the two siblings to work out their family drama in private.

"Doesn't concern you," she answered snippily.

"Uh, it kinda does," he snapped.

"Why?"

"Because Mom and Dad are flipping a shit."

"Still? After a month?"

"Yeah, duh. You're they're daughter. Where have you been staying? Have you even been showering? You smell terrible."

Amy's mouth fell open; she was deeply offended. She surreptitiously tried to smell herself, but couldn't understand what he was talking about.

"I shower regularly, thank you very much," she snarled angrily.

"Whatever. Anyway, where have you been staying?"

"Like I said, it doesn't concern you. I'm fine. Tell them I'm fine. Tell them to stop worrying and leave it be. Oh yeah, and also tell them that I've sent in all my applications. I'm done. It's over. Everything is fine."

"I can't believe you're being so difficult about this."

"I'm not being difficult. _They're _being difficult."

"For fuck's sake, Amy, they're your parents! You can't just completely ignore them! They're taking it out on me."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't be the center of attention all the time. It's too much. I got a 92 on a test the other week and they freaked out because it 'wasn't Harvard material.' I'm only a freshman!"

"Look, I'm sorry, I really am – I know how it feels. But I can't go back to that. I just can't." With that, Amy shot her brother one last sympathetic glance before standing and starting to leave.

"What was that all about?" Allison whispered when she caught up with her.

"He's just trying to convince me to go home," she answered. "I don't know why he's bothering."

"What did he say?"

"Just that they're pretty much taking all their anger out on him."

"That's harsh."

"Yeah, but it's also not my problem. If they want to drive him away too, then so be it. I don't get why they want us to be one big, tight-knit family. It's not necessary. Hardly anyone's like that anymore – look at Lydia's family, for instance. She's basically left on her own. That's what I want. I just want my own life."

"Yeah, I get it," Allison replied compassionately.

"I mean I do feel bad and everything," Amy continued, "But I can't go back. It's too late."

"You can't go back _ever_?"

"I don't know. We'll see how things turn out, what colleges I get into. If I get into Cornell, maybe I'll be able to face them. But, until then, I need to lay low."

Allison nodded wordlessly in understanding. Then, the bell rang.

"I'll see you after school?" she asked.

"I don't know, I gotta dash… I'm really sorry. Tomorrow maybe?"

"Yeah, okay," she answered unhappily. It was clear that Allison thought her friend would flake on her.

As they parted ways, Amy gave her one last wave as the nervousness began to set in. _Tonight is the night,_ was all she could think.

When she returned to the Hale residence, she was surprised to see Stiles standing at the kitchen counter, eating an apple.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I could ask you the same question," he said with his mouth full, spraying bits of juice as he spoke.

"Ew. And no, you couldn't. You know exactly what I'm doing here."

Stiles made a face. "Fair enough. I'm with Scott."

"Is he here?"

"No, he's out in the woods with Derek… They're doing werewolf-y stuff."

"Then what are you doing in the house?"

"I'm waiting for you, of course!" he said cheerily.

"Me?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I thought we'd have a little bonding time seeing as we barely ever speak anymore. Plus, I think they're going to be busy for a while…"

"Alright," she said, "What do you have in mind?"

"No clue. But I'm bored as hell, not to mention I'm not exactly looking forward to this evening."

"Yeah, I'm really nervous too."

"Whoa, whoa, who said I was nervous? I'm just don't want to be cleaning up any dead bodies, is all. We have nothing to worry about, Amelia, we're the humans!"

"Yeah, but sometimes I don't know if that's a good thing or not. I just feel so helpless."

"Don't feel helpless, feel safe. We're technically not even involved in this. No crazy alphas are going to go ape-shit on our asses; we're not a threat."

"I guess. But Scott and Derek…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

"You're not doing a very good job," she laughed. "Somehow I don't think reminding me that my boyfriend is in imminent danger is the best approach to take when trying to calm my nerves."

"So he's your _boyfriend_ now?" said Stiles with mock-surprise. "So, have you guys – uh – _wink wink, nudge nudge_?"

Amy had the same reaction that she'd had when Allison asked her the same question earlier, but she hissed, "That's none of your business!"

"Ah, so you have, then," he stated bluntly. "Very good. Glad to hear it. Mazel tov."

Amy rolled her eyes in exasperation, but couldn't stop a small smirk from forming at her lips. She hadn't realized until now how much she'd missed Stiles' smart-alecky ways.

The two of them talked until the sun started to go down, at which point they realized it was time to head into the woods.

Amy was so anxious that she was nearly shaking, and even Stiles looked uneasy.

"Chill out, Ames," he said, throwing his arm around her as they walked, "What's the worst that could happen?"

Amy turned and looked at him in disbelief; he knew quite well what the worst that could happen was.

"Okay, okay, bad choice of words," he amended. "But still. You need to stop freaking out. You're acting like you're walking to your execution or something."

She let out a humorless laugh and admitted, "Yeah, maybe I'm overreacting."

When they finally reach them, Scott, Derek, and Peter are standing in a small clearing, waiting. They know they're coming, of course, because they can hear them.

"What are you doing here?" Peter spat. "This is an invite only gathering."

"Hey, we're here for moral support!" Stiles protested earnestly.

As soon as Scott saw Amy, his face contorted in confusion.

"What's the matter with you?" Stiles asked.

"Nothing," Scott said quickly, looking away. However, the expression didn't leave his face; it almost resembled one of repulsion.

Amy couldn't help but be (understandably) insulted. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she demanded.

"I suspect he perceives a change in your scent," answered Peter, "As do I... I think you know what I'm driving at…"

It hit her suddenly what he was referring to, and, once again, Amy blushed in embarrassment. However, this feeling quickly turned to horror as she realized something that would change the course of her life forever.

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><p><strong>Author's note: DUN DUN DUN! Please review!<strong>


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you all will like this one! :-)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 30<strong>

Before Amy could say anything, before she could warn her friends about what they were going to encounter, there was a loud howl from within the forest. Between the long, slim trunks of the young trees, a pair of glowing red eyes stood out against the blackness of the night. It was the other alpha.

It was… Ian. Or, at least she thought it was. It seemed strange, though, that her teenaged brother should be an alpha, up against a middle-aged man. But then it struck her – it wasn't her brother at all.

No, no, no, how could she have been so blind? It was her _father_. Her brother was a werewolf, too, but he was a beta, like Scott and Derek. He was at an age where he'd just started the transition; that's why they'd moved to Beacon Hills in the first place. Suddenly, everything made sense. Her father's mood swings, his inexplicable bouts of anger – they had all been during the time of the full moon. It was why they were so protective of her – so protective of their family.

But lycanthropy was an inherited trait. So, why hadn't she inherited it? Perhaps her mother was human. Yes, that was surely it. Ian got the gene, but she didn't.

Before she had a chance to continue on this string of thought, however, the other alpha – her father – leapt out of the woods. He was snarling and nearly foaming at the mouth with hellish rage. Amy looked to her left and saw that Peter, Scott, and Derek had transformed, while she and Stiles were paralyzed in place, mere observers in a scene straight out of a gothic novel. Strangely, her father did not choose to attack Peter first; instead, he went after Derek.

It all made sense, now. She'd slept with him. She had his scent. In her father's lupine mind, Derek had stolen her from his pack and claimed her as his own. It was primitive and barbaric, but it was the way he thought – at least in his werewolf form, anyway. And she supposed any father would be angry with the guy who took his daughter's virginity, alpha or otherwise.

Her father's attacking Derek confused Peter, if not enraged him. It seemed as though he was misconstruing the action as an attempt to eliminate his help before taking him on one-on-one. Derek was able to dodge a furious swipe to the jugular, and, luckily, Peter intercepted a follow-up attack and tackled Amy's father. The two alphas rolled on the ground, creating an upheaval of dust, leaves, and blood. Their jaws snapped loudly as they bit and clawed at each other. Peter was able to momentarily pin Amy's father down, and Scott and Derek took this opportunity to hold his arms and allow Peter to deliver more effective slashes.

"Stop!" Amy screamed at the top of her lungs as the other alpha began to yelp in pain. "That's my dad!"

"What the _hell_?" exclaimed Stiles.

"It's my dad!" she repeated. "You're killing him!" Scott and Derek stopped abruptly in shock, allowing him to break free and latch his teeth around Peter's neck.

Suddenly, another figure emerged from the forest. It was Ian – werewolf-Ian. His eyes were glowing bright green, and his unruly hair was even more mussed than usual. He looked considerably less animalistic than his father, but still bore a wolf-like resemblance, like the beta he was. Scott and Derek turned to face him as soon as he arrived, growling viciously.

"That's my brother," Amy murmured, too caught off guard to properly verbalize her sentiments.

"Amy, what the hell is going on?" Stiles demanded urgently.

"My family… They're…"

"_Werewolves?_" he finished.

"Yeah. What do we _do_?" she questioned in panic.

"I have no fucking idea," he answered, running a hand over the top of his head anxiously.

"We can't just let them tear each other apart!" she yelled as Scott threw Ian against a tree. There was a resounding thud, but Ian didn't stay down for long.

"What else are we supposed to do?" he asked manically.

"I don't know!" She thought for a moment. "Derek!" she nearly shrieked, "I think your plan needs some reassessing!"

He looked at her strangely and cocked his head to the side, but seemed to comprehend what she was saying. Soon, Scott had Ian pinned to the ground with one of his claws raised, ready to strike. Before he got the chance, however, Derek came up behind him and hauled him off the younger boy by the back of his now-tattered lacrosse jacket. No words were exchanged, but Scott seemed to understand immediately. Then, the three betas approached the dueling alphas. Together, they fought to restrain Peter.

As soon as he realized that he was being double-crossed, he let out an unearthly roar and thrashed around with newfound fervor. However, he was no match for three betas and an alpha; he was grossly outnumbered. Amy's father accepted the help, and, after several brutal blows, Peter could barely move. In a final act of desperation, he used his back legs to kick Amy's father away from him; but this action only served to further enrage him. In one horrific motion, he clamped down on Peter's throat and tore it open. Blood poured everywhere, and, as he reverted back to his human form, it became quite apparent that he was dead.

Amy and Stiles watched helplessly as the Bells then proceeded to turn on Scott and Derek. Scott and Ian began fighting once again, and they seemed fairly evenly matched. If anything, Scott had the upper hand. But Derek was no match for Amy's father, even if he was injured. He slashed him repeatedly and threw him into tree trunks. Amy and Stiles winced at the sound of his ribs cracking. After mere minutes, Derek was bloodied, bruised, and limping. Amy's father wasn't relenting; he seemed to be in some sort of adrenaline-fueled frenzy. Finally, it became too much for Amy to bear.

"I have to do something," she said resolutely, walking towards the pair.

Before she got more than a couple of steps, Stiles grabbed her arm and yanked her back. "Are you insane? He'll kill you!"

"He's my _father_!"

"Yeah, but he's in killing-mode. He won't even know what he's doing!"

"I can't just let this happen to Derek!" she said, near hysterics. All of this was starting to feel horribly familiar, and she couldn't help but think back to the night that her father had totaled Derek's Camaro. She wrenched out of Stiles' grasp and started running towards the fighting pair.

"Amy!" Stiles called after her, concern lacing every syllable.

As Derek unsteadily tried to raise his body from the ground for what seemed like the millionth time, Amy came to his side and helped him up. He let out a low growl as she touched him, but was too weak to do anything. As she wove her arm around him, he began coughing up thick, red blood. The alpha walked over slowly, ready to pounce. Now that she knew he was her father, she was far more confident than she'd been before. She stood firmly in front of her boyfriend and refused to back down as the wolf snarled at her, bearing its bloody teeth mere inches from her face. Its breath was foul and its body reeked of sweat and carnage.

"Stop," she begged, "Dad, it's me! You have to stop! He hasn't done anything wrong! He was helping you!"

She looked into its ruby eyes and saw no absolutely no trace of her father. It was only then that fear began to pierce her heart. When she looked into Derek's eyes – even as a wolf – there was clear recognition in them. In her father's, there was nothing. They were devoid of any sort of acknowledgment, filled only with bloodlust.

"Dad," she whispered. "Please don't hurt him. Please. I love him."

Still no response. She began to panic. The alpha raised its claw, and Amy thought for sure that she was about to be murdered by her own flesh and blood. However, at the last second, Ian threw himself in front of her.

She couldn't believe it. She was so cruel to him, so inconsiderate. But here he was, risking his life for her. Protecting her from their own father. It was beyond dysfunctional.

The alpha stopped upon seeing him. It seemed to recognize him, probably by his scent. Its eyes softened and the snarling ceased. He turned away abruptly, almost as if he was ashamed of himself.

Ian removed himself from his position in front of Amy and started to head off towards the woods. He motioned for his father to follow him, and together they disappeared into the forest.

As soon as they were out of sight, Derek collapsed to the ground and reverted back to his human form. Scott did the same. The four of them remained quiet, their eyes fixed on Peter's dead body.

"So… Uh… Should we just leave it there?" Stiles said, breaking the silence.

"I'm not touching it," Scott stated.

Amy sunk to the ground beside Derek and cradled his head. He had a black eye and was absolutely covered in blood; he was beginning to lose consciousness.

"We need to get him to the house," she said finally.

Stiles and Scott nodded in understanding and each slung one of his arms over their shoulders. They dragged him back to the dilapidated house, all the way up to his bedroom. They laid him on the bed, at which point he passed out. Amy, in the meantime, wet a cloth and began cleaning his wounds.

"Will he be all right?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah, he should heal pretty quickly," Scott said. However, there were so many wounds that he wasn't sure exactly _how_ quickly. "One time, Peter put his hand clear through his stomach. We all thought he was dead, but he recovered in like a week. So, I would say it'll take about that long."

Amy nodded wordlessly and gazed down Derek's beaten face; he looked awful. She brushed her hand through his hair and asked, "What now?"

Several moments of silence passed. "Who the hell knows," Stiles finally said. "Peter's dead… But, I hate to say it Ames, but I don't think things will exactly be going your way in the near future."

"To put it lightly…" she agreed dryly. How she was going to confront her family about their _wolf-y_ problem was another matter entirely, and she didn't exactly want to dwell on it.

"Your brother's got some balls for a little guy," Scott commented, bandaging the scratches on his bicep.

"I can't believe he's – he's…"

"A werewolf," Stiles finished.

"Yeah. It's crazy. I always thought of it as the sort of thing that would make you really volatile, but my brother was always so… emotionless. It doesn't really make sense."

"Well, maybe that's why he was able to step in and save you so easily," Stiles commented. "He wasn't overcome by the transformation."

"Yeah, at least he doesn't always have to worry about accidentally killing someone," Scott added. It was clear that he was envious and speaking from personal experience.

All of a sudden, Derek jolted upright and started coughing violently. His eyes were shining brightly and he could hardly breathe. The three of them watched him vigilantly, surprised that he had regained consciousness so quickly.

"Are you all right?" Amy demanded worriedly.

He looked around frantically, but seemed to calm down once he realized where he was.

"Shit," was all he said before falling back on his pillow and passing out once again.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you all liked it! We're nearing the end... Pretty please review! **


	31. Chapter 31

**_Author's Note:_ Hey everyone! I know it's been a while, but the new season is going to bring in faster updates! Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed, it really means a lot and inspires me to write more. I hope you all like this :-)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 31<strong>

Amy knew Derek would be all right. He'd taken a beating, obviously, but he would pull through. He always did, and he was in safe(ish) hands with Scott and Stiles. Right now, she was primarily worried for herself.

It was unavoidable at this point: she needed to speak with her parents.

And she'd finally gathered the strength to do so. Because they weren't at all innocent in this, hell to the no – talk about being hypocritical. They had been angry that she was running away from their stifling grasp, but now she was justified in defying them. Her entire life had been a lie, the true nature of her family concealed from her. So she would drive; she would go back home, and she would confront them. They would have no valid excuse for their behavior, and because of this she could easily weasel out of being punished. They had no moral _or_ legal right to. Even if they cut her off financially, she could just continue living with Derek. In fact, she intended to do so anyway.

So when she arrived at her house and parked her car in the driveway, she was startlingly confident. She strode to the doorstep but was saved the trouble of knocking; her mother opened the door immediately.

The blonde woman's expression was unreadable. "We need to talk," Amy deadpanned, not in the mood to hear any of the nonsense she might have spewed.

Her mother only nodded and stepped aside so she could enter the house. Ian and her father were seated at the dining room table, looking appropriately somber. _Jesus_, Amy thought, _it's not as if someone's died._ But _something_ had died. Their trust had died. The family unit had died. Amy was no longer a part of it. She was an outsider; not completely cut off, but dwelling on the outskirts. She was like the wolf that had been rejected by the pack – an omega.

Amy took a seat across from her brother without saying a word to anyone. Even after several minutes, no one spoke. Soon, she grew angry and impatient. "I think you all have some explaining to do," she snapped.

"We could say the same to you," her father growled. He never took his amber eyes off of his hands, which were folded in front of him.

Amy felt rage bubble in her chest. "Don't even start with me," she said indignantly, "I've been lying for a couple of months, you've been lying for eighteen _years_." The truth in her statement weighed heavy in the room.

Her mother shifted uncomfortably and weakly replied, "It was all for your own good, Amelia."

Amy let out a bark of hysterical laughter. "Oh, that's rich! That makes it all okay then, doesn't it? As long as it was for my own good."

The woman flinched visibly at her daughter's ridiculing tone.

"You don't understand, you little brat," came her father's gravelly voice.

"Oh yeah, why don't you insult me, too. That'll help."

"We tried to keep you away from this world for a reason, and yet you still found a way to get tangled up in it! Only you could find a way to screw up so profoundly," he snarled, meeting her gaze for the first time.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" she asked simply.

"No," he snapped, "Never. It wouldn't have been necessary."

"Well that's not exactly right, is it?" she sneered, "Believe it or not, I've learned a thing or two from the people who _really_ care about me, and obviously this-this lycanthropy or whatever you want to call it runs in our genes. So it's entirely possible that one of my kids could have spontaneously begun howling at the moon and I wouldn't have had the slightest clue _why_."

"We always thought you would marry someone normal," her mother said quietly. "The probability would have been so low…"

"But still _possible_!"

Everyone else was silent – she had a point. "Look," she continued, suddenly very fatigued, "the fact of the matter is, I do know now, so there's no use hiding anything else. Just tell me everything."

It was her father that spoke next. "The reason we didn't tell you," he started somewhat calmly, "is because we didn't think it would be possible for you to have werewolf children."

"What? Why?"

He sighed deeply. "You're not a normal girl, Amy. You didn't see her tonight, but your mother is a werewolf, too."

"That doesn't make sense," she interrupted.

"Just listen. When you were born, we were sure you were going to be like us – like all the Bells. Because this has been in our family for _generations_, Amy. For far longer than you can imagine. We belong to one of the oldest werewolf lines in world – just as the Argents are from the oldest line of hunters. You see, the Belles and the Argents have been at odds for centuries. When we shortened our name and emigrated from France, it became far more difficult to track us because Bell is a pretty common name."

"Where are you going with this?"

"What I was saying was we were sure you were going to be a werewolf. There just wasn't any way for you not to be. I had bitten your mother after we were married to ensure that the line would continue. But something happened when you were only a child – you got sick, _very_ sick. Somehow you ingested some amount of wolfsbane. Not enough to kill a normal child, but enough to kill a werewolf. You were sick for months, but eventually you recovered and we thought it was a miracle. We don't know exactly what happened physiologically; somehow that trauma killed off the werewolf part of you. Luckily, it happened before any of the characteristics manifested themselves, so you were able to survive. What we do know is that female werewolves who have been exposed to large amounts of wolfsbane often cannot have werewolf children, so we thought it would never be an issue. It was just as well, really, since we thought we could completely shelter you from all of this."

Amy took several moments to process the information her dad had just given her. "Wow," was all she could say. "So I was really meant to be a werewolf?"

He only nodded. "I shouldn't be surprised, really, that you found others," he said ruefully. "Some of the characteristics have remained with you, it seems. You sought out a pack. You used to carry the scent of our pack as if you were a werewolf, but that has since… changed."

"Which brings us to what we need to talk about next," her mother interjected disapprovingly.

"The Hale boy," her father continued, "he is also from an old family. One of the first in the country – they arrived with the colonists in Virginia in the early 1600's, I believe."

"You tried to kill him," she stated bluntly. "He is the last of his living relatives, and you tried to kill him."

"There are Hale families spread throughout the country. They've certainly had time to expand."

"You tried to _kill_ him," she repeated.

"He ruined you. He stole you from this pack – you have no idea what goes into these sorts of things! It would have been a fine match, under different circumstances! It was handled entirely wrong, and now the whole thing has been botched beyond repair."

"What are you even talking about?" she shouted, nearing histrionics. "This isn't the Middle Ages, for God's sake! A '_good match_', are you kidding me? It's not like he expects a fricking dowry or something!"

"He knows better. His father would have taught him better. He knows the codes, and for him to play innocent is just a further insult."

"Dad, he didn't know about our family! If he'd ever met you guys, maybe things would be different – if you'd been accepting, things wouldn't have turned out this way!"

"Regardless, he has sullied your reputation," he snapped angrily.

Amy truly could not believe her ears. How was it that her parents were apparently freaky cult people and she hadn't ever known it?

"So what now?" Amy said softly. "I don't think we can ever get past this, honestly."

Her mother looked at her with sad eyes. "Honey, please…"

"You have Ian here," she interrupted, "He'll carry on the family name or whatever it is you are so foolishly obsessed with. But I'm done. I can't do this. I love Derek, and there is seriously nothing you can do to prevent me from seeing him besides literally killing me. He doesn't lie to me or pretend to care about my best interests for the sake of some secret agenda. He actually cares about me, and if that means nothing to you then you mean nothing to me. As my parents, you're supposed to want what's best for me. Obviously you don't know what that is anymore, so I'll spell it out for you. I. Love. Him. End of story." Wanting to leave on this dramatic note, Amy stood abruptly from her seat and headed towards the door. No one tried to stop her.

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><p>When Amy got back to Derek's house, it dawned on her that she had finally done it; she'd finally cut ties with her parents. She'd thought about it for ages and discussed it with Stiles and Allison, but it didn't feel nearly as gratifying as she thought it would. Instead she felt sort of… hollow.<p>

Pushing these thoughts aside, she walked upstairs to relieve Scott and Stiles of their vigil. She was met with the sight of a fully conscious Derek and the two teenagers playing what appeared to be Kings. Derek had a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand and was drinking straight from it.

"Are you really sure you should be doing that?" she chided in a failed attempt to hide her amusement.

He snapped his steely blue gaze to her as she entered the room and wryly replied, "It helps with the pain."

"It was my idea," Stiles piped in proudly. His face was flushed and it was obvious that he had had a bit too much to drink.

"So this is what happens when I leave," she said rhetorically. "I'm gone for an hour after witnessing a werewolf death melee and I come back to you three playing a drinking game. I shouldn't be surprised, really… Derek, you were _unconscious_ when I left, by the way."

"Yeah, well, I woke up," he shrugged. "And it appears I'm bed ridden, so what else could I do?"

"And I think tonight's events call for a little celebration," Scott reasoned happily.

Amy gawked at him. "_Seriously_?"

"Uh – I just mean uh with Peter being gone and everything," he stammered quickly.

"I guess," she conceded.

"So, what'd your parents say?" Stiles asked.

After she recounted the entire story, Derek was conspicuously silent.

"Thoughts?" she prodded him.

"Uh," he started lamely, his mind slightly hazy from drinking a quarter bottle of whiskey, "I mean, I get why he's pissed, but I seriously didn't know – if I had… Well, I don't know what I would have done."

"Are you trying to say you would have been more legit?" Stiles scoffed. "Like asked her father's permission or something? Somehow I have a hard time picturing that…"

Derek glared daggers at the loudmouthed teen. "There _is_ a sort of conduct that we're meant to adhere to," he explained. "If someone had done what I did with Amy to my sister, my dad would have gone ape-shit too."

Amy threw her head back in hopelessness, before ripping the Jack Daniels from Derek's hand. She took a gulp and winced. "It's the fucking twenty-first century!" she lamented. "Who acts like this anymore?"

"Werewolves, apparently," Stiles offered, stating the obvious.

Several beats of silences passed, before Scott asked Amy, "So what are you, then? Werewolf or human?"

"I honestly don't know," she answered dejectedly. "I feel like one of those things from Harry Potter – the muggles whose parents are magic…"

"Squibs," Stiles assisted.

"Yeah, that…"

"I did notice that you had a kinda werewolf-y scent," Scott said, "but I just figured it was because you were hanging around with Derek so much. It's not that strong… But you smell different, now…"

"Well this is awkward," she commented, taking another swig of the whiskey.

"Hey, at least now we only have one more problem to deal with," Stiles added.

"Which is?"

"The Argents."

**_To be continued..._**

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><p><strong><em>Author's Note:<em> Let me know what you thought of this! Reviews are the best. Also I'd love to hear your thoughts on the season 2 premiere!  
><strong>


	32. Chapter 32

**_Author's Note: _Yo, so there are a few things I would like to say, so I apologize in advance for this long AN. First of all, THANK YOU REVIEWERS I LOVE YOU ALL. babyvamp101 - don't worry, Amy is physically incapable of becoming a werewolf because of what happened when she was young.  
><strong>

**Second, I am loving Derek more and more as this season progresses, if that's even possible. Episode 2? When he was flirting with that police officer? Omg I could not even deal with life. His sexiness is too much to handle. THAT SMILE. And I think one of the reviewers, Shellow, put it really well when she said that Derek took an almost fatherly approach to dealing with Scott (also rando side note: Scott sniffing people = hilarity). I honestly always pictured him the way they're portraying him so far this season - just wanting a pack to feel like he has a place somewhere - and I'm so glad he's not evil (because they kind of alluded to that being the case in the Season 1 finale, I feel...). Basically, he is perfection.  
><strong>

**Which brings me to: I would like to find a way to tie in the general gist of the events of the latter part of Season 1 and Season 2, so y'all have that to look forward to in the future. So, without further ado, here is Ch. 32! (rhyming skillz ftw)  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 32<strong>

Amy's talk with her parents seemed to have made an impact on them; she no longer received desperate calls ever half hour or threatening voicemails, and it seemed that things were finally starting to look up.

There was just one thing she was curious about – did the Argents know about her family?

From what her dad had said, it didn't sound like it. But then again, it wasn't exactly like she could trust him or anything. She'd have to ask Allison about it.

The morning after the "werewolf death melee," as the group had dubbed it, was a bit of a catastrophe. Everyone had stayed the night in Derek's dilapidated bedroom, and three awoke completely hungover. Derek, the lucky bastard, did not have to go to school. But Scott, Stiles, and Amy did.

"_Mother of god_," Amy cursed loudly at the sound of her 7 AM Marimba alarm. Scott and Stiles reacted similarly, muttering a string of vulgarities and scrambling to their feet. Perhaps it was a bit Pavlovian, but something about that goddamn annoying sound made Amy want to commit mass murder. She fumbled with her iPhone, failing miserably at entering in the correct passcode. Maybe if she could actually _see _properly, things wouldn't be so difficult…

"_Son of a bitch_," Stiles groaned in horror, clamping his hands over his ears in dismay. "Stop it, stop it now, or so help me I will smash that thing to pieces!"

"I agree with everything Stiles just said," Scott seconded, barely capable of opening his eyes.

"I'm trying, I'm trying, believe me," she whined.

Finally, the ungodly tune ceased and everyone was pulled back from the brink of insanity. It dawned on them then that Derek had successfully managed to sleep through the entire ordeal. They all looked at his peaceful form as if they wanted to smother him as he slept.

"School," was all Amy was able to grunt. Her back ached, her head pounded, and her eyes burned. She felt as if she was about to die.

"Advil," was Scott's reply. Out of everyone, he appeared to be the most functioning. _Goddamn werewolf powers_, Stiles mused enviously.

"Don't have any," Amy replied morosely.

Scott turned to Stiles. "Oh yeah, let me just whip some out of my purse – oh wait," he said sarcastically.

"No need to be such a little bitch about it," Scott snapped.

Stiles rolled his eyes and Amy said, "Time to go. C'mon, boys."

"We're never do that again," Stiles stated firmly on the way down the stairs.

"It was _your_ idea," Scott pointed out.

"…Aaaand I still stand by what I just said."

Once outside, Scott and Stiles got into the latter teen's Jeep; Amy, in her own car, followed her friends to school. The dreary gray sky and skeletal trees indicated that Beacon Hills was now well into winter and, on the drive, it suddenly dawned on Amy that she would be hearing back from Cornell any day now. Somehow this reality seemed strikingly less important than it might have been several months ago. It was hard to believe that in a few short months' time she would graduate high school. And then what? She was certainly going to go to college _somewhere_, but the thought of her having to leave her new friends was deeply saddening. She remembered the sense of futility she'd felt when her family had just moved to Beacon Hills; she could never have imagined what was in store for her. And in her short time here, she'd grown to care deeply about many people, particularly Derek (obviously), Stiles, Allison, and Scott.

But now wasn't the time to get sentimental, she decided as she parked her car. She still had almost eight months before she would have to leave Beacon Hills.

When Allison saw Amy in the hallway, the first thing she said was, "You look like shit."

"_Thank_s," Amy replied dryly.

"What happened?"

"Did Scott not already tell you?"

"He did gave me an outline…"

"How much did he say?"

"Not much, just the basics – that everyone was okay minus Peter. You know he's not really great at... verbalizing things."

"Skip first period with me? I'll explain in the bathroom, I need to wash my face and attempt to look presentable … You don't happen to have any Advil with you, do you?"

"No, sorry. And okay, let's go. What's wrong, are you like hungover or something?"

"You might say that…"

"It's the middle of the week," she snickered.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll explain."

Once in the girls' room, Allison sat on the radiator as Amy splashed cold water on her face and started applying some makeup.

"So?" Allison said expectantly.

"Well, firstly, the other alpha killed Peter and nearly killed Derek – he's all right now, thank god… And secondly, we found out who the other alpha is," Amy replied, her tone grave.

"Who?" she demanded.

"You can't tell anyone. _Anyone_, okay? This is a huge deal. If anyone in your family finds out…"

"Is it someone we know?"

Amy bit her lip and momentarily stopped applying her mascara. "It's my dad."

Allison's jaw dropped. "Your _dad_? What? How?"

"Apparently we are one of the oldest _you-know-what_ families. My brother is one too. And my mom."

"Your entire family?" she exclaimed in disbelief. "How is that possible?"

"When I got really sick when I was little, apparently it stunted my… powers, or whatever. I don't really understand it completely. But that's why I'm 'normal' and they're not."

The young Argent took a moment to let this shocking information sink in. "That is… surprising," she said finally.

"You're telling me…" Amy muttered.

"I have to tell you something," she blurted out suddenly. Amy snapped her gaze away from the mirror and looked at her friend; Allison's chocolate eyes were shining with panic, and Amy knew that whatever she was about to say next didn't bode well.

"What is it?" she asked cautiously.

"… My aunt… This morning, she found Peter's body in the woods. She wants to go after the other alpha now; she's been waiting this whole time for something like this to happen. She was afraid that if she struck before one killed the other they would band together, but now that Peter is out of the way…"

"She's going to try to kill my dad," Amy finished blankly.

"Yeah… Amy, Amy, I'm so sorry, if I'd known I would have said something, I would have tried to come up with a lie or something – but I thought this was a good thing! Maybe if she knows it's your dad…"

"No!" Amy interrupted. "No. We can't risk that. We both know it won't make a difference anyway, and if she knows it's my dad then she can attack him when he's not expecting it."

Allison didn't protest; she acknowledged that Amy was probably right – it wouldn't make a difference if Kate knew or not.

"When?" Amy asked quietly.

"I don't know. She didn't tell me. But I think she _and_ my dad and the others are going after him."

Amy didn't know what to say. Someone from one of their families had to die; it was inevitable. "You have to find a way to stop them," she eventually insisted, "otherwise-otherwise someone is going to… get hurt."

"I know," she said, nodding slowly, "But I don't know how to convince her – my Aunt Kate, when she puts her mind to something, it's hard to talk her out of it."

"Well you have to _try_," she insisted.

"Okay, okay, I will. But what if that only makes her more suspicious?"

This was a valid point. "I don't know, but you get that something needs to be done, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," she answered, lost in thought.

Amy soon got out her phone and texted Derek, _Argents want to attack alpha now that Peter is out of the way…?_

His response was quick: _not surprised. don't know what we can do. your dad might try to kill me again_

_I don't think he will_

_I'll talk to scott. 5 of us against them seems doable_

Amy bit her lip and looked at Allison almost guiltily. She cared deeply about her friend, but if it came down to her family, Scott, and Derek against any of the Argent hunters, there would be no hesitation regarding whom she would choose to support. Allison seemed to sense this.

"We should go to class," she suggested awkwardly.

Amy nodded, before sending one last text to Derek; _How are you feeling btw?_

_better. would be better if you were here_

Trying to hide her smile, she started out to the hallway. Someday, she hoped – _prayed,_ even – that her life would become less dangerous. It wasn't that she was worried for her own safety, per se, but the ones she loved seemed to constantly be in imminent peril. She knew her life would never be normal; this, she had already come to terms with. But she couldn't let go of the hope that one day she and Derek might not have to hide their relationship and live in constant fear of someone – her parents, the Argents, the police, or even other werewolves – tearing them apart. She doubted Derek thought about this in the same way, but she did sense that he hated being on the peripheries of society. He may never have been student body president or anything like that, but she knew that he'd had some semblance of a normal life at one point, and there was no way that he didn't long for it once again.

She felt for Scott and Allison, she really did. They were two of her best friends. But she knew that Allison would never be able to reconcile Scott with her family, and that eventually she would have to choose one or the other. Amy considered herself lucky – her parents may not have approved of Derek (hell, her dad tried to kill him, just as Chris might have tried to kill Scott), but they were not inherently at odds with one another. There was a possibility that they would grow to accept him and perhaps even embrace him as a part of the family. In the far, far future, of course, and Amy startled herself even thinking of it in these terms.

Because where did she really see herself and Derek in several years' time? She didn't know. What she did know, though, was that girls rarely stayed with their high school sweethearts unless they got knocked up, and that certainly was not going to happen to Amy. Although, she and Derek were not a typical couple and would never be able to lead average lives. It was almost easier if they stayed together; they had too many secrets to even think about seeing other people.

And then there was the obvious fact that she loved him. That had to count for something…

It dawned on her suddenly that she had never actually told him this. She'd told other people – hell, she'd even told people in front of him! But she'd never told him directly – and he, for his part, had never really indicated anything of the sort. She _thought_ he felt the same, but she couldn't be sure unless she actually heard him say it. But this was a problem for another time. They already had plenty to deal with without the added pressure of romantic drama.

* * *

><p>The school day passed quickly. After classes were over, Amy decided that she had several things she needed to take care of. Firstly, she needed to talk to her brother. Secondly, she needed to talk to Stiles. He would be unbiased in his analysis of the Argent situation, and the two of them usually saw eye to eye on these sorts of matters. So, she texted him, <em>Stay after school for a bit, I need to talk to you about something<em>.

_K_, was his brief response.

As Ian unlocked his bike in front of the school, Amy snuck behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. "We need to talk," she stated.

He quirked an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure you've said all that needed saying."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and replied, "How are Mom and Dad?"

"If you're talking about anger, on a scale of one to ten, they've been at a steady twenty for a couple months now."

"Cut it out for like one second, I'm trying to be serious."

He looked at her pensively, allowing her to continue. "Look," she started in a hushed voice, "just because Peter Hale is gone doesn't mean you guys are in the clear. Kate Argent found his body in the woods this morning and is planning on attacking Dad at some point."

Ian did not look particularly surprised, but said, "They only know him as the 'other alpha' though, right?"

"Yeah. But still."

"Dad will take care of it."

"But she's Allison's aunt – she's our neighbor."

Ian rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Well, what do you want me to do? I'm not exactly the one calling the shots. If it were up to me, we wouldn't even be in this situation in the first place. I told him before, I told him that we shouldn't get involved. But the second he smelled that Hale kid on you he pretty much went ballistic. If anything, this is all _your_ fault."

Amy felt kind of bad that she didn't even feel a tinge of remorse at this statement. "I don't really care about that now. It's _not_ my fault that he's irrational, nor is it my problem. But I just don't want you guys to get _killed_, so, you know, I'm warning you."

"Well, thanks, but I doubt Kate Argent is much of a match for an Alpha," he said sardonically.

"It's not going to just be her – there are others."

Ian allowed an unnerving smirk, "You think I've been living next door to these people without spying on them? If I've learned one thing, it's that Kate Argent is rash to the point of stupidity. Chris may hate us, but he at least plans things out. Kate just acts, and believe me, it's going to be her downfall." With that, he hopped on his bike and began pedaling away.

Amy ran a hand through her hair, still justifiably worried that someone was going to get themselves killed. Just then, her phone started vibrating.

"Hello?"

"Yo, Amy, where are you? I've been waiting by your locker for like five minutes," came Stiles' voice.

"Oh, I'm in front of the school."

"Okay I'll meet you out there in a sec."

Sure enough, Stiles strode through the door a few moments later.

"What's up?" he greeted, taking a seat next to her in the grass.

"Remember what you said about the Argents?" she started. Stiles nodded. "Well, you were right."

"Big surprise…" he muttered wryly.

"So I talked to my brother and I talked to Allison and they both seem to think that Kate is the biggest problem."

"_I_ could have told you that."

"Well, what should we do?"

"_We_ shouldn't do anything. Look, Ames, I've been thinking about this because I suspected it from the beginning. Having one of the alphas kill the other and then take out the remaining one was a good plan, but it was also an obvious one. It's not surprising that the Argents thought of it too. The only thing is, it's not like we can launch a counterattack or something. We have to wait for them to strike first, otherwise we – meaning primarily Scott and Derek – look even more like monsters and therefore invite _more_ attacks, which, I don't know about you, I am pretty damn sick of. It has to be self defense."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

"Of course I am."

Amy rolled her eyes, but smirked nevertheless. "I am going to be so glad when this is over," she said finally.

"You're telling me – I had to deal with this BS all last year, too," Stiles quipped, standing. He helped Amy to her feet and looked as if he wanted to say something, but didn't.

"What?" she asked finally.

"Nothing."

"Why were you looking at me weird," she asked, narrowing her blue eyes skeptically.

"It's just – we were the normal ones…"

Amy had really never thought about this before, but he was, of course, correct. "I'm still normal," she reasoned.

"No, not really. You're no more normal that Allison."

He had a point. "Does that bother you?" she asked curiously.

Stiles licked his lips and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Honestly? Kind of, yeah. I kinda sucks being the only ordinary one. I feel like I lose my grip on reality."

Amy smiled and patted him on the shoulder maternally. "Dude, I'm still the same person. I'm just as normal as I thought I was before, don't worry. And I'll be the first to bring you back to earth if I think you're getting out of line."

"Yeah, but this changes things," he stated.

"Well, obviously, but you're not normal either – your dad _is _the sheriff, Bella."

At first, Stiles' face contorted into a look of confusion. "What?"

"Twilight reference. Never mind. At least we don't have to deal with any vampires," she reasoned.

At this, he cracked a grin. "I guess," he chuckled. "But yeah, speaking of which, I gotta go. I told my dad I would stop by the station and explain to him why I wasn't home last night… Should be fun."

Amy winced in sympathy. "Good luck," she said as they walked to their respective cars.

"Thanks. See ya."

"Bye!"

And soon, Amy was on her way back to the Hale residence.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>_**: So, thoughts? I want to hear everything you guys have to say. What do you think about Amy/Derek's relationship? Where should I take it? Does he love her? And what about Ian and her parents? Amy and Allison? Amy and Stiles? I have to say, I just love Stiles... Please review! :-)**


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: Yo omg guys thank you so much for the reviewsss! You all are the bomb. And dayum the pressure is on now that we have almost reached 700 reviews... It's just hitting me that I am not even close to coming worthy of all the praise that this story has gotten, so thank you so much! I don't deserve it! I hope you all like this chapter!  
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><p><strong>Chapter 33<strong>

When Amy returned home (wait, when had she started calling it that?), she went straight upstairs. To her dismay, Derek was not where she had left him. With a flippant roll of her eyes, she walked to the top of the staircase and yelled, "Derek!"

He was behind her so quickly that she didn't even have time to register which direction he'd come from. "Yes?" he greeted, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as she spun around exasperatedly. They knew each other too well.

"You shouldn't be doing… whatever it is you're doing. You need to rest," she reprimanded, arms crossed. She tried to sound disapproving, she really did, but somehow she still had yet to master the correct inflection of a nagging girlfriend. Whenever she scolded him, it sounded unnatural and just came off as flirtatious or amused. It really wasn't in her nature to be overbearing.

"I'm fine," he assured her. She started forward in an attempt to inspect him, but he pulled away. "I don't need to be coddled," he scoffed.

Amy just raised a delicate eyebrow. "_Really?_ Do you not remember the state you were in last night? I think I have a justification to be worried."

"I've healed."

"Completely?"

"Mostly."

"Ah, so that's a _no_."

Now it was Derek's turn to roll his striking eyes.

"Mostly is not completely," Amy pressed. "Look, just please take it easy for a few days. That's all I'm asking."

He studied her pensively, sizing her up. "I was only talking to Scott," he admitted finally.

"What'd he say?"

"He's being difficult," he grit out.

"How so?"

"He's refusing to fight the Argent hunters because he doesn't want them to recognize him and force Allison to stay away from him," he stated as if it were the most absurd thing in the world.

Amy, however, merely sighed. "Can you really blame him?"

"Are you serious? He's being a complete dumbass, as per usual. That Argent girl is going to get him killed!" he snarled in frustration.

"Hey, Allison is my friend."

"That's _fine_," he stated through clenched teeth, "because you are human. Scott isn't."

"He's in love with her, he can't help it," she replied whimsically.

At the mention of the L-word, Derek bristled. He shook his head and said, "I've tried, I really have. I've warned him."

"Allison loves Scott," Amy insisted passionately. "She truly does."

"That is irrelevant. And if she _really_ loved him, she would break up with him before her family has the chance to figure out what he is and slaughter him."

She still remained wholly unconvinced, so Derek continued, "Our kind needs to stick together. We're much stronger in packs. If Scott goes off on his own… Things aren't going to end well for him." From the tone of his voice, Amy could tell that Derek genuinely cared about Scott's safety. He was not concerned for himself (because he too would be stronger in a pack), but rather for the younger werewolf.

"Well, what if it's just you and my family against the Argents? Do you still think you guys could handle it?"

"Yeah, but that's not the point. The point is that Scott's just not getting it – he can't survive on his own."

"I'm sure you'll get through to him eventually," Amy replied, squeezing his hand.

He looked at with her with stormy eyes, but relaxed (at least outwardly) at her touch. "Whatever," he said finally. "I don't even care at this point." It was an obvious lie, but she didn't call him out on it. Instead, she cocked her head and gazed at him thoughtfully.

"What?" he said uncomfortably.

"You know, you wouldn't make a bad alpha."

He raised his eyebrows, a rare indication of surprise. This had been something he'd contemplated before, but he hadn't expected Amy to pick up on it. It was only natural, of course, that this idea should cross his mind. He was the eldest Hale son and had therefore been conditioned from birth to someday fulfill the role.

But when his family died, when he had been prematurely cut off from his pack, the notion completely fled his mind. He hadn't been ready to take control and, as everyone knew, the title had passed to Peter.

Derek knew that he was beginning to show leadership qualities, and this knowledge unnerved him. His instinctual desire to protect and mentor Scott was distressing, as it was a solid indication that he was reaching the maturity level needed to guide a pack. But what had incited this change?

"I will never be an alpha," he stated coldly.

The bitterness in his tone caught Amy off guard. "Why do you feel so strongly about it?"

"I don't want that responsibility," he said, "I'm no role model."

"You're too hard on yourself." She hated it when he said things like this; he didn't realize that his unhappiness in turn made her unhappy. _I love you_, she thought desperately. Maybe if she thought it hard enough she wouldn't have to actually say it._  
><em>

Derek suddenly looked intensely pained, as if he could read her mind. He didn't like the way she was staring at him. Everything seemed to be fitting together like pieces in a puzzle and Derek cursed himself not having seen this coming. Everything he'd actively tried to prevent was suddenly falling into place around him. He would never escape what he was, what he was raised to be – what he was _born_ to be. Everything he had lost and everything he had avoided was starting to rear its ugly head.

He had been raised thinking he would marry a fellow werewolf and start his own family. Fine. But, after the whole debacle with Kate, he'd promised himself that he would never have a serious romantic relationship again. And then came Amy. But that was fine, she was human. No threat. But then it turns out she comes from a family of werewolves; strike one. What were the odds? He must have known all along, on a basic, animalistic level. He hated himself for it.

He'd lost his brother, Jake. But he saw him in Scott, and _that_ was why he wanted to protect the insufferable teen; strike two.

If he succumbed to this faint, flickering desire to be an alpha – if he even acknowledged its existence – that would be strike three. And then he would be back to his old self, and his family would have died in vain.

"What's wrong?" Amy asked, drawing him out of his thoughts. Amy. She was the girl that had done this to him. To allow himself to care for her in the way that he already knew he did would be to forgive himself for trusting Kate. And he could never forgive himself.

"Nothing," Derek answered. They both knew it was a lie. He almost hoped that she would press the matter and give him a reason to lash out at her, but she didn't. They knew each other too well.

She sighed deeply. He had disappointed her. Good. He was no hero. "Why do you punish yourself," she asked.

He didn't bother wondering how she knew. "Because I deserve it."

"No, you don't. People make mistakes, Derek. You're allowed to be happy. Being happy doesn't mean you have to forget."

"Look, I don't want to talk about it," he stated.

"Fine." He looked like he needed a hug (i.e. he looked like his usual, surly self), so Amy wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his. He awkwardly reciprocated by putting his large hands on her hips. When they pulled apart, she asked, "How much of the fight do you remember?"

"I remember everything," he said, his eyes flashing with something unfamiliar to both of them.

Amy only nodded. She didn't want to elaborate on what she was alluding to, especially when it was clear that he already knew. The fact that he chose not to address it was worrisome, but she chalked it up to him not wanting to express how he felt about her, which was to be expected. If Allison thought _Scott_ had trouble verbalizing things, she had obviously never spent any substantial amount of time with Derek.

"Well," she said finally, "I think I at least managed to talk some sense into my parents… And Allison said she was going to try to see if there is any possible way she can prevent the others from attacking."

"I wouldn't hold my breath," he muttered darkly, "the Argents didn't become the world's most fearsome family of werewolf hunters by listening to the requests of teenage girls. Even with Allison on our side, it's unlikely that they will choose not to attack. At this point it looks like it's just going to be me and your family against them…" He seemed far from enthused by the prospect, which was entirely understandable.

"If that's the case," she started hesitantly, "then maybe we should pay them a visit… I think you guys have some things to sort out, that's for sure."

Again, Derek looked just short of appalled. Nevertheless, he replied, "You're probably right."

"Seriously?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why are you so surprised?"

"It's just, I mean, it's not exactly like you guys got off to a great start," she attempted pathetically.

"Well you did say that you talked to them. And at least now we both know where the other is coming from…"

"Hey, if you want to meet them 'officially,' it's all you! I support this one hundred percent, I just never really could picture me taking you to Sunday dinner."

Derek allowed a terse half-smile. "Somehow 'Sunday dinner' and planning attack strategy don't exactly seem synonymous."

"Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to," Amy quipped, waving him off nonchalantly.

He shot her a quizzical look, before responding, "You know, sometimes you remind me _way_ too much of Stiles…"

She grinned, but said, "Ew, don't say things like that to me. Anyway, let's get going then, shall we?"

"_Now_?"

"There's no time like the present! Plus, we don't exactly know how much time we really have."

"You realize that you live next door to the Argents," he pointed out, "I can't just waltz up to your front door."

Amy's fingers moved furiously against the screen of her iPhone. "Already taken care of," she replied after a moment.

He gave her a look that said, _Care to explain_.

"Just texted Allison and my brother. Allison's gonna distract her family, and my brother is telling my parents that we're coming. We're good to go," she stated, walking towards the door.

Derek shook his head in silent protest, but followed her all the same.

* * *

><p>Had this encounter taken place earlier, Amy might have been nervous. But now, she could confidently say that she couldn't care less about her parents' opinions on <em>anything<em>, let alone Derek. This visit was merely a necessity, something to ensure that both the Bells and Derek would remain safe in the event of an attack.

Mrs. Bell's expression was unreadable when she slid open the patio door and allowed Amy and her boyfriend inside.

"Your father is in the living room," was all she said.

Anxiously, Amy interlaced her fingers with Derek's as they strode into the sitting room. Mr. Bell was seated in a large armchair, looking calmer than she'd last seen him. Ian was standing in the doorway, watching the scene with undisguised fascination.

Derek's light eyes jumped around the house, taking in his surroundings. When he and Amy were finally standing in front of her father, she spoke. "Dad, this is Derek." The quiver in her voice betrayed her uncertainty, and Amy cursed herself for sounding so weak. She _did not_ care. She didn't need his approval.

The man in question put his hand out as a peace offering, but the elder werewolf ignored it. He stood so that the two of them were on equal footing. "Derek Hale," he began menacingly, "we finally meet."

"I believe we've met before," Derek stated dryly. His jaw clenched as he remembered their two previous encounters, and Amy tightened her grip on his hand as if to assure him that there would be no fighting.

"Indeed," her father said, speaking as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. "Why have you come?"

"We have a common enemy," Derek answered.

"The Argents? You wish to help me defeat them?"

"Yes. Look, I know we obviously got off on the wrong foot, but our families have a lot in common. If I had known about Amy's background, I wouldn't have acted the way I did. But the fact remains, I care about your daughter."

Mr. Bell sized him up, finally replying, "You seem genuine enough. You have proved numerous times that you are willing to put yourself in harm's way to protect her."

Amy stared at her father in disbelief, willing herself not to be brought to tears. Had he truly come to his senses? No. She couldn't even hope. She would not allow herself to be open to such severe disappointment. It was better to expect nothing and get nothing in return.

He looked at his daughter with sad eyes. "I'm not a monster, Amy," he said, "Despite what you might believe, I do love you."

Tears clouded her vision and Derek extricated his hand from hers, instead opting to put his arm around her shoulder.

"So you're okay with this?" she said finally, unable to believe what was happening.

"I've come to terms with it," he corrected. "Your future has always been the most important thing to me. Your letter came from Cornell came in the mail today. Congratulations, kiddo."

Amy felt her heart ice over instantly. That was why he was doing this. Not because he loved her, because he was pleased with her. But for the moment, it served the same purpose.

"Wow, really?" she said in false excitement.

"Yeah. You've proved that you can balance your own life with these matters… I guess you really have grown up since moving here."

Amy chewed her lip and tried desperately not to get angry; Derek sensed her inner turmoil and shifted closer reassuringly. He didn't like her father. He didn't _really _didn't like him, and not just because he was tormenting Amy. But he knew that he was the more powerful of the two of them, as unfortunate as it was. He suddenly felt another surge of desire to become an alpha. He was tired of having to submit to others – it was time he lead his own life. But he needed Amy's father's help.

"Great," she said naively, "so does this mean that everything this fine now?"

"I wouldn't say _'fine_'," her mother interjected, "but we are willing to compromise. You two can see each other, but we don't want you living together."

"We can work out the logistics of all that later," Amy dismissed quickly. "For now, I think we should focus on the Argents."

"_We_ are not focusing on anything," her father said, "You're not involved, Amy. You will not be part of this, it's much too dangerous and not to mention completely unnecessary."

Amy, in turn, was outraged and turned to Derek for assistance. "I'm going to have to agree with your father," he told her solemnly. "There's no reason for you to be involved other than your attachment to us, and I will not be responsible for anything happening to you," he said sincerely. Amy's mother looked as if she was watching a rendition of Romeo and Juliet, while Ian looked nauseated.

"The Argents wouldn't even think to hurt me, I'm human," she reasoned.

"Don't be so foolish," her father snapped. "They will do whatever it takes to bring us down, even if that means using you as leverage. We're not the monsters, they are."

"Allison would never –"

"It's not Allison's decision," her mother cut her off.

Before anyone could say another word, a round of bullets penetrated the front door. They all ducked just in the nick of time (Amy didn't exactly duck, she was more or less forced to the floor by Derek).

"That's right," came a familiar, mirthful voice from the other side of the door, "It's _not_ her decision."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Let me know what you think! Also what did you all think of last night's episode? Derek turning Erica? Also this is kind of random, but would anyone be interested in making a banner or something to put as the little cover photo for the story? I'll give you full credit of course, but I have no idea how to do it myself and I don't like that my stupid avatar comes up next to it lol. Just lemme know if you'd be interested! :-)<strong>


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's note: Woooo guys sorry about the wait! I tried to get this up earlier, but my job takes up soooo much time and it's really cramping my style. As always thanks so much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter! Love yaaa :-)**

**Check out these awesome banners Choco23Symphony, SamiLynn23, and Kali-Wolfchilde made (also there's one by moi)! You guys are the bestest! Just type the typical www dot photobucket dot com slash fasttimesatbhhbanners. There's also a link on my profile!  
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><p><strong>Chapter 34<strong>

"_Kate,_" Derek growled. And indeed, when the bullet-ridden door swung open, she was revealed. She looked completely at home with a machine gun propped at her hip and a throwing knife stuffed into her front pocket. Aside from being armed, however, she appeared disturbingly normal; her dirty blonde hair was in loose curls and she wore a black top and a tight-fitting pair of jeans – not exactly fighting (or hunting, as she would more likely consider it) attire.

"The one and only, babe," she sneered wickedly. "Well, well, well, what do we have here? A little pack initiation in the works? Derek, honey, didn't you learn your lesson? The whole pack thing hasn't exactly worked out for you in the past…"

Derek gave her a look of searing hatred, but clenched his jaw in an effort to remain silent. He would not give her the satisfaction of knowing she could anger him. She didn't deserve that power.

Amy, on the other hand, couldn't keep words of loathing from tumbling out of her mouth. "Get out of my house," she spat, fists balled at her sides; she was so furious that she could feel her fingernails begin to draw blood from the palms of her hands.

"Now sweetie," she started with a condescending smile, "didn't your mommy and daddy teach you not to be rude to your neighbors? I only want to have a little chat. You know, I should be thanking you, really. You all saved me a lot of trouble! Now I only have to deal with the extermination of one alpha instead of two. Not that I'd have really minded it, but it took me _forever_ to get the bloodstains out of my Manolos after the last hunt – rule of thumb: never wear suede. But anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, I should be thanking you – all of you. I mean, from the way things have been going, I could probably leave you guys to go at it and eventually there'd only be one left. But I don't want to miss out on _all_ the fun."

She shifted her grip on the machine gun and immediately, everyone in the room (with the obvious exception of Kate and Amy) transformed into werewolves and bared their teeth. Amy's father, not completely in his alpha form, rushed to the front of the group and stood poised in front of Kate.

"So jumpy," she taunted, "Just like every other animal." In the blink of an eye, she raised the gun to be level with Mr. Bell's face.

He was behind her with his hands around her throat before she could pull the trigger. Amy had expected her to cower or beg for her life, but her grin merely grew. "Careful, _Jeff_, your wife is right there," she warned suggestively, reveling in aggravating him.

Suddenly, another round of shots pierced the house. Amy's father snapped his head to look behind him, and, sure enough, Chris Argent appeared with reinforcements.

Everything that proceeded happened so quickly that Amy wasn't quite sure what had actually taken place. With a careless flick of his wrists, her father snapped Kate's neck. There wasn't even a struggle; it was just a clean break, without any hesitation whatsoever on his part. Kate hadn't even known it was coming and she didn't have any opportunity to react. The woman's body crumpled to the floor and Chris' regrettably heart wrenching call of despair echoed into the moonlit neighborhood. Derek flinched and Amy's mother averted her gaze, but Amy herself stared, transfixed. She had just witnessed her father murder someone before her very eyes.

And then he vanished.

Chris pursued him, but the other two hunters turned their sights first to Kate's dead body, then to Derek and the remaining Bells, and finally to Amy in particular. One man whispered something inaudible to his companion and tightened his grip on his rifle.

Although Amy hadn't heard what he'd said, Derek, Ian, and her mother had. "No!" he snarled viciously. "Don't even think about it."

They raised their rifles and took aim; one at Amy's mother, and the other at Ian. They managed to get them with silver bullets, but didn't inflict any substantial damage. In the commotion, however, Derek took the opportunity to usher Amy out of the house and attempt to get her away from the scene.

However, this was a grave mistake.

Outside, behind the houses, the yard was dotted with hunters. One electrocuted Derek with what appeared to be a cattle prod and pried him away from Amy. Derek fought tooth and nail against the hunters, and eventually he was aided by Mrs. Bell and Ian. But by the time they had apprehended (or, to put it more inelegantly, killed) everyone, Amy was nowhere to be found; she had been brought inside the Argents' house.

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><p>Amy kicked and thrashed and screamed in an attempt to break free, but her efforts were lost. She was gagged almost as soon as she'd been grabbed, only to be hauled off by several men far bigger than herself.<p>

They brought her to the Argents' basement. It felt strange, she couldn't help but notice, to be dragged so unwillingly into a place that she had visited many times before. It was all so surreal that it felt like some impossible nightmare rather than reality.

She could hear Allison shrieking a story above them through the floorboards as the hunters tied her to a chair in the center of the ill-lit room. Soon, Allison's mother appeared in front of her, looking absolutely livid. As it turned out however, this anger was not directed towards her.

"What is wrong with you idiots?" she fairly snarled at Amy's captors. The teen felt a surge of hope that the elder woman might be protecting her.

"Ma'am?" one questioned meekly, obviously shocked by her hostility.

"Why in god's name would you take _her_?" she clarified, still seething.

"She is the link between the creatures," the other explained, "She is our best shot at getting them to surrender."

"_Or_ she is the one thing that will make them band together! Use your heads!" And just like that, Amy's hopes were dashed. She was nothing more than a pawn.

"The police are coming," Allison's mother continued, pressing her fingers to her temples, "The neighbors heard the shots. They can't know that we have a hostage."

"Should we let her go?" one of the men asked dumbly.

"_No_, you fool," she scoffed, "We've already got her, we might as well find a use for her. But for now, we need to hide her. Keep her in the panic room for the time being," she instructed callously, her ice-cold eyes bearing into Amy without any trace of sympathy.

Amy had never thought Allison's mother was particularly friendly, but she was shocked to discover that she was downright _inhuman_. The men carried her chair to another part of the basement where there was a metal storage cabinet. After typing the combination into the keypad and opening the doors, they revealed the aforementioned "panic room." It cut into the wall behind the cabinet, thus making it much larger that it outwardly appeared. It took them all of one minute to place the completely defenseless Amy into the room and lock the door behind her; even if she could get the gag off and scream for help, no one would hear her through the thick steel walls. She was defenseless, and all she could do was wait for someone to rescue her. She hated it.

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><p>When Sheriff Stilinski received the call informing him that gunshots had been heard in Amy and Allison's neighborhood, he'd thought he had concealed it from Stiles. However, as always, his son had somehow managed to overhear (unbeknownst to his father) and was sent into a frenzy. In his mind, there could be only one cause for such an altercation: the Argents and the Bells had finally clashed.<p>

He was forced to sit at his desk, idly tapping his pencil to his notebook, and pretend to focus. It wasn't until he heard the surefire sound of his dad's engine starting that he scrambled to his feet and jetted into his car. Once he was racing on his way to neighborhood, he called Scott.

"What is it?" he asked irritably.

"Dude, we have a problem," Stiles answered, his tone uncharacteristically solemn.

"What?"

"My dad just got a call – there were gunshots in Amy and Allison's neighborhood."

"Shit. Alright man, I'm on my way."

The conversation ended, and Stiles looked at his speedometer; he prayed that all the cops had gone to the scene, seeing as he was going 65 miles per hour in a 25 zone. When he reached the entrance to the cul-de-sac, he could see flashing police lights ahead of him. Making a hasty decision, he swerved and parked his car in the grass along the side of the road. The last thing he needed was his father recognizing his Jeep.

Then, under the cover of darkness, he ran into the housing development and towards his friends' homes. Once he was in front of them, he noticed that whatever had happened was not obviously apparent. Of course, there were now several police cars parked on the street and the Bells' front door was wide open, but other than that nothing seemed _too_ out of place. So, he snuck along the brick wall of Amy's house, towards the backyard. When he got closer, however, he noticed what had gotten everyone in a tizzy. There was what appeared to be a body lying limply just inside Amy's house. He couldn't see who it was, though, because the majority of the police officers had huddled around the site.

He looked briefly towards the Argents' and saw that his father was speaking on the porch with Allison's mother. She seemed extremely distraught, crying and pointing wildly to the Bells'. Stiles continued his trek towards the backyard and saw several officers crowded around a handful more lifeless forms in the grass.

But what disturbed him most was the fact that he couldn't find _anyone_ that he knew. The Bells, Allison, Derek, and Scott were all nowhere to be found.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, however, he felt someone put their hand over his mouth. After the initial panic dissipated, he spun around, expecting Scott. To his surprise and chagrin, he was instead faced with a very battered and very _enraged_-looking Derek. Stiles dark eyes widened involuntarily, and the green-eyed werewolf pressed his finger to his mouth and made an agitated face to order him to be quiet.

"What the hell happened?" Stiles hissed, deliberately disobeying him. To their great fortune, the police were too enthralled with the carnage and the dismayed Mrs. Argent to even begin to notice them.

After swallowing the urge to bash Stiles' face in, Derek, answered, "Kate's dead. Amy's dad killed her. The Bells ran off after him and Chris Argent after fighting off the rest of the hunters."

"Where are Amy and Allison?" Stiles demanded, now sufficiently worried.

Derek cocked his head towards the Argents'. "They're both in there. They took Amy hostage," he growled.

"Does Allison know?"

"I don't know, but we're about to find out."

As if on cue, Scott jumped from the Argents' roof to the Bells' and dropped down beside the other two. "Do you guys know what is going on?" he demanded. "Allison is freaking out and she says that no one will tell her anything." The three tilted their heads to look at Allison, who was staring out her window with a dull expression in her eyes. "She said all she heard was gunshots and she hasn't seen her Aunt Kate since," he added.

Stiles and Derek shared a look, silently determining who would inform Scott. Eventually Stiles explained, "Amy's dad killed Kate. Then the rest of her family apparently went on a murderous rampage and took out a bunch of the other hunters. Allison's dad is out there chasing after them."

Scott suddenly looked very nervous. "Where's Amy?" he asked tentatively.

"They have her," Stiles told him bluntly. Derek wasn't looking at either of the teens, instead opting to glare daggers at Mrs. Argent, who was now leading Sheriff Stilinski into the house.

"We have to help her!" Scott exclaimed.

"No shit," Stiles muttered, "I'm working on it. That place is crawling with cops and werewolf hunters."

"I don't care," Derek snarled. Now that the police had disappeared into the residence, he started towards the basement door. However, Stiles grabbed the sleeve his leather jacket in an effort to stop him. Derek looked at the physical contact in undisguised contempt and Stiles quickly removed his hand to avoid imminent pain.

"We can't just go barging in there," he tried apologetically. "Look, I want to save her too, but this requires careful planning –"

Stiles was cut off by the two werewolves actively disobeying him and sprinting towards the house. Once safely in the shadows and out of view of any of the windows, Scott scaled the wall up to Allison's bedroom window.

Stiles rolled his eyes and slowly trailed after the other two. "And do they listen to me? No, of course not! Because no one ever listens to _Stiles_, he's just a silly human," he mumbled crossly to himself.

Sensing Scott in the room, Allison turned around abruptly to face the window. She was in a horrible state; her eyes were red and puffy and her usually well-coifed brown locks were in tangles. She could tell from his grave demeanor that something was seriously wrong.

"What is it?" she demanded, her voice hoarse from shouting.

"A-Allison, your aunt…" he stammered sympathetically.

She collapsed onto her bed. "I knew it," she said blankly. "…Who?"

"Amy's dad," he answered uncertainly. "Al, look, they have Amy in the basement…"

Allison let out a bark of mirthless laughter. "I'm locked in here," she scoffed.

"The police are downstairs."

"I know. My mom doesn't want me going down there because she's afraid I'll turn them in. And quite frankly, I think I might."

"Allison, do you know where in the basement they might have put Amy? It would have to be somewhere quiet – I can't hear any shouting or anything."

She shook her head mutely, still not meeting Scott's worried gaze. "They usually did all that sort of stuff in the cellar of the Hale house." However, she suddenly seemed to realize something. "There is the panic room, though…"

"The panic room? Can you lead me to it?"

"Like I said, I'm locked in here."

Scott walked over to the door and used his elbow to bang the doorknob completely off. The door swung open without a problem. "Someone will have heard that," he said urgently, "Go around to the basement door and let us in, we don't have much time." Without another word, he leapt from her window. Allison quickly rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath in a vain attempt to compose herself. Then, she started down that hallway.

_To be continued…_

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><p><strong>Author's note: Yo peeps, please review. I know I'm a review whore, I will not even attempt to deny it, but lemme just put it this way - if you average the number of people who have subscribed and favorited, each chapter should have around 230 reviews, which would put this at 7,590 reviews (I'm not counting this chapter). That's pretty sad! Please guys, it only takes a sec!<br>**

**Also on another note muchos gracias again to Choco23Symphony, SamiLynn23, and Kali-Wolfchilde for making banners! You guys are awesome! (links at the top of the page/my profile, the one shown is by yours truly but that shall change once I figure out how to work with this blasted website...).  
><strong>

**Lemme know what you thought of this and what you thought of the last episode. I love hearing what you guys think of the show. I think the last ep. was probably my favorite to date. I don't ship Derek and Stiles, but some of those scenes were just blatant fanservice and I loved every second of it. Honestly I actually don't even ship anything but Allison/Scott (and myself with every male castmember, but that's another matter entirely), but even I found myself rooting for Derek and Stiles. I just love them both so much. And omg Derek kissing Erica? Thoughts? I think that's the first time we see Derek kiss anyone, right? Oh lordy. Anyway, lemme know!  
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	35. Chapter 35

**Author's note: Yo hi there, guys. I love you all for reviewing, you are magnificent. Ummm what else? Oh yeah, funny story - I was driving on the highway today between a black Camaro and a Jeep and I was freaking out and pretending it was Derek and Stiles because c'mon who wouldn't? But then I drove up alongside the Camaro and it was an old guy and I was sad. But yeah haha just thought I'd share, that's what prompted me to finish this chapter. Hope you all like it!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 35<strong>

Derek was practically pacing along the wall of the Argents' house when Scott rejoined the group.

"Well?" he demanded upon seeing the younger werewolf, impatience lacing every syllable.

"Allison is going to let us in through the basement," Scott answered simply. He and Stiles shared a secretive glace in regard to their companion's waspish attitude. Derek was never affable, but even he wasn't usually this short-tempered. Something important was becoming immensely clear to them: Derek cared about Amy _a lot_. They'd suspected it, mostly from the way Amy spoke of him, but now they were actually _seeing_ it. And it gave them mixed feelings; "caring" Derek not the endearing Prince Charming from fairytales – he was feral and impulsive and made the two teens fear that he might do something rash.

Stiles looked vastly uncomfortable when Allison finally opened the basement door. "This is a bad idea…" he mumbled almost inaudibly as they tiptoed into the pitch-black basement.

"What other choice do we have," Scott hissed back.

Almost as soon as they were all inside the house and the door was shut behind them, Scott and Derek dropped to the floor for no apparent reason. Allison opened her mouth to shriek in shock in horror, but was silenced by a man's large hand before any sound travelled up her throat. Stiles felt someone pin his arms behind his back and he put up a minimal struggle. Causing a commotion would only draw attention from the police (more importantly, his _father_) and that was certainly the last thing he wanted. There had to be another way out of this.

After the short scuffle had calmed down and one of the assailants turned the lights on, it became apparent that Derek and Scott had been knocked out by some sort of tranquilizers; small, arrow-like syringes were protruding from both their bodies. One man restrained Stiles, while the other held a squirming Allison. I was glaringly obvious that Stiles was being completely complacent, and his brown-haired companion looked at him in fright – outwardly, it seemed as if he was betraying them.

His attacker loosened his grip and Stiles spun around to face him. He was a burly middle-aged man wearing a plaid shirt. "Look, let's just talk about this," Stiles attempted in a hushed tone.

The man quirked a scruffy eyebrow, allowing him to continue.

Stiles licked his lips nervously. "You know," he started, "we're not _really_ on opposite sides – we just want our friend back. She's a human, like us."

"She's not a human, she's a Bell," the man holding Allison spat.

"No, she had some sort of weird disease thingy when she was young. Jesus, don't you think you'd know by now if she were a werewolf? I mean c'mon," he laughed anxiously. This banter was getting him nowhere. "If you'll just give her to us, we'll be on our way and you can do whatever you like to Scooby and Scrappy over there," he said more seriously, gesturing to Derek and Scott. "We humans gotta stick together, am I right? Plus, Derek's already a wanted man, so if the cops find out – i.e. _my dad_ – you can just pin this whole thing on him and we won't say a word so long as you give us Amy."

The two henchmen mulled over this proposition; Scott and Derek for Amy seemed almost too good to be true, so they were naturally suspicious. "You can't!" Allison protested. "Stiles, what are you doing?" she pleaded, "These are our friends – this is _Scott_!"

"Allison, we shouldn't get mixed up in all this," he reasoned, "There's no need; we're both normal, and this has just royally fucked up our lives – I can't do it anymore! I'm offering a way out for the three of us… And I never even liked Derek, anyway."

The men, encouraged by Allison's outburst, looked at one another in silent agreement; they would take the deal. "What about Scott," she continued vehemently, "He's your best friend!"

Stiles turned his head to Scott's unconscious form and solemnly replied, "Scott has changed – he's not how he used to be. This – this whole _thing_ has changed him."

Allison blinked slowly, trying desperately to understand the situation. Stiles had always been fiercely loyal to Scott, almost to a fault; what was really going on here?

"Enough talk," one of the men ordered quietly, walking towards the storage closet/panic room. "We'll give you your friend in return for your cooperation."

The other man retained his grip on Allison, who had tears welling in her chocolate eyes. "Why?" she questioned sadly. She was no longer fighting and had instead resigned herself to using her capturer's rigid arms as a source of support.

Stiles' gaze darted around the room uneasily as he tried to formulate a plausible answer. "It's _Amy_," he finally stated bluntly; _If only I could make her understand… _he thought.

Confusion washed over the brunette's pretty features. "Do you – do you…?" she stammered.

Before she could get her question out, the man had typed the password into the keypad and begun opening the door. The two captives stood stock-still and seconds seemed to pass like hours as the thick steel cabinet slowly swung open. Neither knew what to expect.

When Amy was finally revealed, her eyes were wide and she had mascara streaming down her face. If Allison had looked disheveled earlier, she would have been a pageant queen compared to the state Amy was in. Temporarily forgetting the necessity for silence, Stiles rushed to her whimpering form and began removing her restraints, starting with the one over her mouth. He put a finger to his lips to remind her to be quiet before making short work of the ties around her wrists. Allison suddenly jerked out of the other man's grasp and went to aid Stiles in releasing Amy, undoing the rope around her ankles. When she was finally free, she stood shakily and started towards Derek's limp form. Stiles held her back.

"No, you can't," he whispered apologetically against the back of her head.

"W-what?" her voice cracked.

"We made a trade. You for them," he stated.

Amy looked to Allison for confirmation; she merely nodded desolately. Unbeknownst to his two friends, Stiles noticed Derek's leg twitch out of the corner of his eye. It was a good thing the hunters had their backs to the two werewolves.

"Now _go_," one of the men snapped.

They needed to buy more time. "Look, we really appreciate this," Stiles stuttered lamely. Amy's brow furrowed in bewilderment before she had the chance to express her outrage regarding the "trade"; Allison shared her sentiments.

"No," she said loudly, "No, I won't leave him." Her tone was firm and left no room for argument. Even Stiles and Allison would not be able to convince her, although Allison didn't have any desire to.

"Shhh, Amy, the cops are upstairs," Stiles hissed, still preventing her from going to Derek's side.

"I don't care, let them come," she said, "Let them see what these people have done to us."

Allison was silent, but shifted her weight from one foot to another in discomfort.

"You're forgetting that Derek is a fugitive," Stiles pointed out.

"Indeed, now _leave_," one of the men said, shoving them towards the door. "They'll be down here to look around any minute… Unless you'd like to explain what you're doing here."

The three teens hesitantly shuffled towards the basement door. Stiles, while guiding Amy, nudged Derek hard with his foot in what had been meant to look like an accident.

His plan had worked; causing turmoil amongst his friends had given Derek and Scott enough time to recover from the tranquilizer and the not-so-inadvertent kick had successfully roused Derek from his unconsciousness. Now _this _was why they should have listened to him in the first place, he mused, satisfied with his own cleverness.

Just as the three as headed out the door, the two werewolves sprung to life. Derek took one of the hunters and Scott took the other. The older wolf squeezed the pressure point on the back of his opponent's neck, rendering him harmless as he fell to the ground. Scott watched this proceeding with interest and did the same to his own adversary. Before even acknowledging Amy's presence, Derek sent the hunters' inanimate bodies a bloodthirsty glare and looked as if he might to more than just knock them out.

It was then that Stiles commented, "Derek, your eyes."

The man (wolf?) in question snapped back into his human form and looked at Stiles in incomprehension. "What?"

"They were red," he answered.

Scott, now also back to his normal self, added, "Like Peter's…"

"My dad," Amy gasped.

Realization slowly washed over all of them. Derek was the alpha, which meant…

"My dad is dead," Amy stated vacantly.

Stiles gave her a sympathetic look. His mouth hung open awkwardly - there was clearly something he wanted to say, but it no longer seemed appropriate. "Look, guys, not to sound cold, but we really can't stay…" he started hesitantly. He and Scott couldn't help but cast an uncertain glace to Allison, who had remained conspicuously silent throughout the ordeal. It was impossible to gauge how she felt about the situation, but it went unsaid that it was most likely her own father who had slain the alpha.

As soon was the words crossed Stiles' lips, Derek was by Amy's side and whisking her away from the Argents'. "Where is your car," he demanded of the short-haired teen, his voice gravelly. Without the Change brought on by obvious reasons, Derek's eyes were mockingly familiar; however, they held within them a tumult of emotions. He hadn't asked for this – he hadn't _wanted _this – but he'd anticipated it.

Stiles swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat and said, "This way," as he led them towards his Jeep.

Scott got shotgun, leaving Allison and Derek in the back with Amy between them. Neither girl had said a word on the walk over. It was ironic, Stiles couldn't help but think, that the three of them had been forced together in the back of his car. It was an unlikely trio. But they had all lost someone – Amy her father, Kate her aunt, and Derek his uncle. And now Derek felt as if he'd lost himself, as if he'd been betrayed by his own nature.

"Where are we going?" Stiles asked the somber group as he threw the gearshift into reverse.

"Anywhere but here," Amy murmured. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears. What did this mean? Was he truly dead? Derek becoming an alpha so suddenly didn't _have _to mean that her father had been killed. But what other explanation could there be?

"Drop us off at my house and then the rest of you can go home. Act normal. Pretend nothing ever happened – no one can know that you know about all this," Derek commanded. His tone held an authority that wasn't completely unfamiliar, but it was more resonating under the circumstances.

"You can stay with me, Al," Scott said gently.

She nodded slowly, obviously still in shock. "My father is a murderer," she said finally.

Amy finally focused her eyes and peered at her best friend. Stiles' backseat wasn't particularly large and their shoulders were touching. "So is mine," she insisted. "_Was_…" she corrected dully. She didn't know how they could ever get past this – how they could ever still be friends. Their family members had murdered one another. The Bells and Argents would be perpetually conflicting, just like they had all told them. It seemed inevitable.

Of course, Amy didn't blame Allison for what her father had done; and likewise, Allison didn't blame Amy. But how could they not be reminded of the sins of their parents every time they looked at one another?

Allison met Amy's gaze and instantly understood the situation. She shared Amy's sentiments – things would never be the same between them. Nothing would ever be normal in their lives, especially not in Amy's. She no longer had a family. She had her brother and mother, but they were incomplete.

She didn't even know if she had Derek anymore – he seemed much more cagey than usual, to the point where she was growing worried. Had becoming an alpha really upset him so much? She couldn't imagine why. He hadn't spoken to her directly since they'd been at the Argents', and he'd barely touched her when he was guiding her away from the house. He was definitely being plagued by something other than the fact that he was now an alpha, but Amy couldn't think of anything else that could be bothering him. If anyone should be upset, it was her and she felt irrationally furious that anyone else would even to begin to presume that they had the right to be troubled by anything. No one could understand what she was going through, not even Allison – an aunt wasn't equal to a father, as far as she was concerned.

But then she realized rather guiltily that Derek had lost not only his father, but his entire family. He was actually the only one who _could_ understand her feelings.

She was ripped from these thoughts when Stiles stopped abruptly in front of the Hale residence. He was eager to get rid of them, she could tell. He pitied her, but he wasn't emotionally equipped to deal with these sorts of things and wanted to remove himself from the equation as quickly as possible. She couldn't really fault him, she probably would have felt the same way. People in shock can be unpredictable.

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><p><strong>Author's note: THOUGHTS? I wanna hear from you guys. I was unsure about this chapter, but I think there needs to be some conflict within the core group. Lemme know! Did you guys hate it? Also I realize that my Derek is kind of different than the show's Derek...<strong>

**So yeah just drop a line. Reviewing is super easy now with the changes they've made to the site, so YOU ALL HAVE NO EXCUSES! Haha just kidding (but not really). Let me know what you thought of this chapter and this week's episode. Thoughts on the show's Derek? My Derek? Allison and Amy? Amy's father? Reviewww, my loves. :-)**

**ALSO EDIT: Just had a thought - what if the person in the car at the end of the last episode what the chemistry teacher? He quoted Einstein in class and then there was an Einstein quote on the car's bumper... coincidence much? What do you guys think?**


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: Thank you so much to all of those of you who reviewed! I know I set Amy's father up as a complete douche and I'm kind of sad that I did because it was kind of unintentional, but yeah. I mean in the beginning of the story he's fine if you go back and reread it lol. I really just meant to convey that things changed drastically for everyone in Amy's family after they moved to Beacon Hills. But I hope you all like this chapter! It's not very action-packed, but hopefully that won't deter you...**

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><p><strong>Chapter 36<strong>

Derek led Amy out of Stiles' Jeep and she walked robotically towards the house. He didn't lay a finger on her, but instead observed her movements guardedly. He recalled all too vividly the sheer rage and despair he felt upon learning of his parents' deaths. But although the situations were similar, they were not the same. Amy needed to be sure.

"You have to call your mom," he instructed distantly before they entered the ruined home.

Her large sapphire eyes bore into his; they looked bluer than they ever had against the backdrop of her inky, smeared mascara. Panic danced in her irises. "Why?" she questioned hurriedly. Almost – what was it? _Mistrustfully_. She didn't trust him? He had done nothing to give her reason not to. But she sensed something, something different about him, something that had nothing to do with becoming an alpha.

He softened his gaze and more soothingly said, "Don't you want to know for sure – don't you want to know what happened?"

She pursed her lips and nodded, gathering the strength to dial her mother's phone number. After taking a shaky breath, she pressed her familiar iPhone to her ear and listened to the ominous rings, her heart sinking further after each one.

Suddenly, she heard a voice on the other line. "Amy?"

"Mom? Mom, what's going on?" she demanded hysterically.

"Honey, your father – your father –" the woman's voice cracked, and that was all the verification Amy needed.

"Was it Allison's dad?" she asked gutturally, her tone startlingly even.

"Y-yes," her mother affirmed through a sob.

Amy sank into a sitting position on the creaky old steps of the front porch and let her phone slide from her grasp. Derek quickly sat beside her and brought it back up to her ear as her hands hung limply and uselessly by her sides. "Where are you now?" she managed through a fresh bought of tears.

"We had to leave. They police – the police came – I had to take your brother – we aren't in Beacon Hills anymore."

"What?"

"He told them it was self-defense and they believed him – we're not safe there anymore – as soon as we stop we'll tell you where we are and you can come meet us."

"No," she said flatly.

"What?"

"No," she repeated, "I'm not leaving Beacon Hills."

"But Amy –"

"I can't. I can't do it. I love you both, I do, but I can't do it. Leaving here will destroy me."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" Amy squeaked.

"If you don't come when we've stopped, I don't know when we'll see you again. We are going to have to be moving around for awhile, Amy," she pleaded, "_Please_."

"Mom, I can't," she cried, "I really can't."

There was a heavy pause; "Then good luck."

The call ended and Derek dropped the phone as Amy descended into sobs. He didn't know quite how to react – crying girls weren't exactly his forte. And while the idea of having to comfort a distraught girlfriend repulsed him, the idea of _wanting _to comfort a distraught girlfriend repulsed him even more. How he'd come into such bizarre and unwanted circumstances was beyond his comprehension.

He was utterly confused, both by his own actions and Amy's. Part of him wanted to let himself open up to her, to profess his love for her, to sweep her off her feet and protect her until the end of time like all perfect boyfriends were supposed to. But the other part of him wanted to run. It wanted to run as quickly and as far away as possible and never look back. This part of him saw Amy as nothing more than a weakness, an errant pathway to his bitter heart and a way to hurt him. _Again_. Everything he had ever cared about had been violently ripped away from him, and there was _no_ _fucking way_ that he was going to let it happen again. It wasn't an option.

The ferocity of his own emotions had startled him when Amy had been kidnapped, and Derek Hale did _not_ get startled – not by anything, and especially not by anything so trivial as _emotion_.

Now, he could hardly admit to himself that at first, Amy had been nothing more than a diversion – something to occupy his time, keep him entertained. He hadn't had any sentimental investment in the relationship whatsoever. But like a weed, his affection for her had been unchecked and therefore allowed to grow, and now, looking back at his callous approach, he felt sickened that he'd treated her emotions with such indifference. He'd known from the start that Amy liked him, and he knew now that she _loved_ him. Granted, perhaps even now she cared for him more than he cared for her – or perhaps she'd just fallen for him much faster than he'd fallen for her. He knew going into the whole thing how easily teenagers grew attached and how naively they offered up their hearts to the first person that struck their fancy. He'd been one of those teenagers once, and he had been burned. It seemed oddly twisted that he should have even considered putting himself in a position where he might have broken Amy's heart, like Kate had broken his.

But Derek did care about her – he genuinely didn't know if he _loved_ her, or if he even knew what love felt like anymore. It was indisputable, though, that Amy's situation was bringing back a slew of memories that he had tried with all his might to repress. In his dreams, in his nightmares, he remembered the crippling pain he'd felt when he came home from school to see a fleet of fire trucks and ambulances. He remembered the smoke, the blood, the stench of gasoline, the sound of his sister crying. Her remembered it all, but not when he was conscious. Not if he could help it. It was all flooding back to him now as he sat on the porch of the very same house that plagued his subconscious. That _house_. It was a shrine, a battle-scar, and a ghost, all in one. The exterior was just as torn up as Derek's soul.

And now he shared it with Amy, at least to an extent. She would forever associate this place with the discovery of her own father's death and the theoretical loss of her family.

That was what he didn't understand – now, she had nothing. She had _chosen_ not to leave with the remainder of her family, and he couldn't understand why. Well, he _could_, but he didn't want to. She had chosen to stay with him. Maybe not _just _him, for she certainly felt close to Stiles, Scott, and Allison, but mostly him. She had more or less lost Allison as well at this point. And it scared him to know that she had chosen him over the ones she was supposed to care about most when she _knew_ that he was in a volatile state. He knew she knew that he considered becoming an alpha an unwanted burden and he also knew she knew how unstable his temper could be. What she needed most right now was stability, not him. He was all wrong – he was the exact opposite of the person she needed him to be.

As her tears seeped into the fabric of his black t-shirt, he couldn't help but desperately wish that he were the man she needed him to be. He was what she _wanted_, not what she needed.

"Amy," he said in a low tone as he awkwardly stroked her hair. He felt so ill at-ease – he had never been in a scenario like this before, and he hadn't the faintest clue how to act.

The sound of his voice only caused her to cry harder. "How could this happen," she said, "W-why weren't they more careful?"

Although she was crying, he knew she was still in shock. It would take days – weeks, even – for the horrid reality of everything to set in. Derek prayed that this wouldn't affect her as much as his parents' deaths had affected him. He was not the same person he had been. But it was very clear to him now that Amy's innocence was lost in almost every sense. She had started the year as an average eighteen year old, and now she was someone completely different. The naïveté was gone, the bubbly personality had faded. Someday she might return to normal – parents _were_ supposed to die before their children, it was the natural order. But it would take months for her to even start to revert to a semblance of herself.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, surprising even himself with the question. He hadn't meant for it to breach the wall dividing his inner monologue from his actual speech.

"Do what?" she sniffed.

"Tell your mother that you won't go after her," he clarified.

"Because I can't," she lamented, "I just can't. I can't leave here. I can't leave everyone. I can't leave _you_."

Derek tensed under her touch and steeled himself. "You shouldn't throw your life away for _me_," he spat with surprising resolve.

Taken aback, she tore herself off of him and made eye contact. "Derek, I think you already know this, but I love you," she stated matter-of-factly. It'd come out nothing like she'd wanted it to, nothing like she'd planned for it to. But she supposed that didn't matter, not with him. It wasn't exactly that he was tone-deaf, per se, but rather he understood tone and context and still chose to disregard them. It wouldn't have made a difference if she'd professed her love in front of the Eiffel Tower or in front of a dumpster, the effect of her words would have been the same.

He turned his head away, unable to face her. She was right, he had already known – but that didn't detract from the finality of her statement. How could he respond? Did she expect him to reciprocate her sentiments? Derek Hale had not even thought of uttering the L-word since the Kate catastrophe, and he couldn't imagine starting now; it had been erased from his vocabulary, perhaps permanently. Even if he felt it, he might never be able to actually _say_ it.

For her to offer him her heart on a silver platter so easily confirmed his fears. They had reached the point he had been dreading, the fork in the path. Things could go two very different ways at this point, but they could never be the same as they had been.

Only when his hesitation become completely un-ignorable did a look of alarm grace her features.

"I see…" she muttered, tears clouding her vision once more. "You obviously don't feel the same way."

Derek couldn't think of a response that wouldn't be met with further injury. He hated this, he hated doing this to her – especially now, especially on the same night that she'd lost her father. He felt like an absolute monster.

"Look, Amy, it's not like –"

"You think I don't understand, but I do," she cut him off. "You think you're some big mystery and that no one will ever figure you out, but you're kidding yourself. You think you're the only person who's afraid of getting hurt if they let themselves care about someone? You're not. Everyone is. You've been hurt before, I get it – but Kate and I are completely different people. If you do care about me, you shouldn't let the fear of losing me hold you back! But maybe I'm being presumptuous. Maybe this was all a game to you and now it's becoming a little too real and you want out."

"How can you even say that," he growled. He knew he shouldn't get angry with her, especially not now, of all times. But he couldn't help it. Outrage bubbled in the pit of his stomach and he could feel the feral instincts that wired his brain kick in. Everything that had happened was hitting much too close to home, and while Amy was experiencing the pain of loss for the first time, Derek was reliving it for what seemed like the thousandth time. But there was one thing he felt that she did not – guilt. Amy was not responsible for her father's death, but he was for his.

"Is that all you think of me?" he demanded, his tone just short of a sneer, "That I'm some scared little boy who can't express his feelings? You think you have it all figured out, but you don't even have the slightest _idea_. I understand that this is very hard for you, I get it. But don't for even a second think that you know how I feel. Our circumstances are not the same."

He was furious and his eyes were flashing dangerously. But Amy would not back down, her blood was thick with adrenaline and her judgment was obscured by sorrow. Normally she would know better than to provoke him, but not now.

"I don't care what you say," she retorted, "I _know_ that that's what you're afraid of. You don't want to get close to anyone – that's why you don't want to be an alpha – you don't want to deal with a pack – you don't want to get attached. When I saw you after the Argents took me hostage, you weren't the same. I'm not stupid. You must have reacted strongly – you scared yourself, and now you're trying to run away."

Suddenly, all the rage fled his face and his expression became unreadable. "Amy, I remember it all as if it happened an hour ago," he said in a stone-cold tone.

She blinked twice slowly, surprised by his abrupt change in demeanor.

"I lost everything in one night," he continued stoically, "Everything. I wouldn't do that to you. I wouldn't abandon you. But I can't – I can't," he paused and tried to harden his voice, but to no avail. "I can't _let_ myself lose anything else."

Amy took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. She had never seen him like this, so – so broken. And she had never been like this, either. Both of them were utter wrecks. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and Derek's dark eyebrows were knitted together in a pained scowl. His eyes were downcast and it was clear to see that he was attempting to keep his emotions in check. For a brief moment she thought she actually saw his eyes glisten, but no tears fell.

"It doesn't work that way," she insisted pitilessly. "You can't live your whole life in the fear that what you have will be taken away from you!"

He shook his head as if he were dealing with a petulant child. "You don't understand…" he murmured, "You just don't. I don't think you even _can_. What happened to my family was my fault. _My _fault. And even though it was unintentional, it will _always_ be my fault that they died. The guilt of that will follow me until the day I die, and it just makes the fact that they're gone that much harder to get over."

"I think I understand now more than anyone else what it feels like," she managed tearfully. Although outwardly she appeared distraught, she said the words with conviction.

"You don't have that same guilt."

She stayed quiet. Perhaps he was right. She wasn't directly responsible for what had happened to her father – the Argents would have attacked him regardless of anything she did or didn't do.

But she _did_ feel guilty that their relationship had taken such a frightfully bad turn in the recent months. She'd disregarded everything he had said. It had always been like that. When she was little, she loved her father more than anything else – she didn't think he could do anything wrong. She had been "Daddy's little girl" until… Well, until she'd met Derek.

"Maybe it's not the same," she said finally, "But my relationship with my father was nonexistent when he died tonight. We used to be a happy family, Derek! The four of us, we used to be completely normal! I_ loved_ my dad. We had a great relationship until we moved here, we really did! It was only recently that we started butting heads! And I know to you it probably seems like we hated each other, like he was delusional and horrible and didn't care about me in the least, but that wasn't always the case! If I had known that these past few months were going to be my last with him, I sure as hell would have done a lot of things differently!"

"Like stayed away from me," he snapped.

"That's not what I meant," she replied wearily. "All I mean was that I feel guilty that things were so bad in the end. So I do know how you feel to an extent. Anyway, your parents died _years_ ago, and my dad died an hour ago. So forgive me if I'm having a hard time feeling sympathetic."

"I don't _want_ your sympathy, Amy, I don't want anyone's," he answered roughly. He stood suddenly and walked inside the house. Amy didn't follow him.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Sooooo let me know what you think of this. Emotional!Derek is very, very difficult and I don't know if I've gotten him right. Also let me know what you think of Amy? I'm basing her reaction to her father's death on personal experience (not my own, but a couple of my close friends have lost their parents...). It's a really tricky thing to get right, though, and everyone reacts differently to tragedy. <strong>

**A couple of people also mentioned an Amy/Stiles maybe semi-romantic thing going on, but I don't know what I want to do with that, so let me know what you all think of it.**

**I know I hound you guys for reviews all the time, but my life goal is to get this story to 1,000 reviews before the end (and the end is coming soon, even though I said that like 10 chapters ago). If everyone who favorited leaves one review we can reach that goal in one chapter, soooooo... But yeah, please let me know what you think! This chapter was super hard for me to write!**


	37. Chapter 37

**Author's Note: Hey guyz, thanks so much for your beautious reviews! I love love love them (which you all probably know after 37 chapters...)! **

**Couple of quick things: I meant to do with last chapter by I forgot and may I rot in hell because of it - YOU ALL SHOULD READ SHELLOW'S STORY, The Ruler and the Killer. Seriously. All of you go read it. **

**Secondly: I realized a couple of days ago that I made a deviantart account like a year ago but never posted anything on it... UNTIL NOW. So, if you guys like that stuff or have accounts or whatever, my username is rosie2102. I posted like 2 pictures (sketches of Amy & Derek!) but there will probably be more stuff coming (maybe, if I'm not too lazy). I'll put a link in my profile!**

**Anyway yeah, I hope you all like this chapter :-) And don't let the beginning discourage you, it may not be what you're expecting! ;-) **

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><p><strong>Chapter 37<strong>

As she sat motionless on the steps, Amy could hear noises of destruction emanating from the decrepit manor. She winced with each sound of shattering glass or splintering wood, cradling her heavy head in her hands. Tiredly, she took her index fingers and wiped the dampness from her lower lashes, serving only to further smudge black makeup across the tops of her freckled cheekbones. She felt as though there were a gaping hole in her chest, almost as if she had been shot through the heart. But she knew that any physical pain she was feeling was merely an evil manifestation of her psychological wounds.

Loving Derek was toxic, it was self-destructive and it was irresponsible. She should have realized this earlier. It wasn't hard to figure out, it wasn't unforeseeable. She had known from the start that a mess of complex emotions lay beyond his impervious façade. But now it was too late. Their passion would be their downfall; people like them, people who both needed one another so desperately and brought out the best and worst in each other were doomed to fail. Amy feared her whirlwind romance was about to reach its abrupt conclusion.

From within, Derek released a muffled howl of rage. He was feeling just as conflicted as she was, it seemed. Amy craned her neck back in an attempt to invoke some sort of forced serenity, her features becoming eerily calm. In her quasi-meditation, she tried to shed light on the right path to follow. She genuinely did not know what to do. Continuing a relationship with a man who either could never or would never be able to love her in the way that she loved him could very well lead to her demise.

After composing herself, she toyed idly with her phone, still deep in contemplation. She slid her thumb across the screen to unlock it and dialed Stiles' number.

He answered immediately. "Hello?" Panicked, was the first word that came to mind. There was a distinctive trace of panic lacing his tone. He was simultaneously able to convey so little and yet so much in his succinct response.

"Stiles?" she started. To her horror, her voice sounded incredibly whiney; but there wasn't much she could do at this point. She didn't know why she'd called him. Perhaps it had been a mistake. It seemed like a mistake. She didn't want to do this to him, put in a position where he was so clearly uncomfortable. She could very easily just hang up and end the interaction. But she didn't want to.

"Amy? Are you all right?" Concerned. Now he sounded concerned. He mentally cursed himself for asking such a stupid question – _of_ _course_ she wasn't all right. She had just lost her father.

She bit down hard on her lower lip in an attempt to stop herself from crying again. "No," she squeaked, "Derek and I got in a fight…"

It was a good thing she couldn't see him; Stiles was floundering for words from the desk in his bedroom, completely at a loss. His mouth tried and failed several times to form a coherent sentence, but eventually he managed, "Is there something you want me to do?" It seemed like the safest bet – she had obviously called him for a reason.

Amy carefully considered her next words. Finally, she said, "Can you come pick me up?"

Stiles pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek in discomfort. It was the dead of night. It dawned on him suddenly, however, that he was probably her closest (and only, discounting Scott, who was with Allison) friend at the moment. She had no one else to turn to.

Unfazed by his conspicuous silence, she continued, "I would drive myself, but I left my car at… the house." Not _her _house, he noticed, _the_ house.

"Alright," he agreed eventually. "I'll be there soon."

The line went dead and Amy tossed her phone into the unkempt grass. As the sounds of Derek's fervent rampage continued to permeate the night air, she screwed her eyes shut and clamped her trembling hands over her ears in an effort to stave off yet another emotional breakdown. This was the only time that Amy truly feared what he might do to her or himself. He seemed completely overcome by his fury, completely unable to control his actions. She imagined this was what turning into a werewolf on the first full moon felt like – perhaps it had something to do with becoming the alpha. But she doubted it.

Stiles could not arrive fast enough.

When his Jeep did finally roll up the dusty pathway to the Hale house, Amy hopped to her feet and rushed towards the car before he had a chance to turn off the engine. She didn't bother informing Derek where she was going or with whom she was leaving – she knew he could hear everything that was going on, and the fact that he chose not to even bother stepping outside was telling in and of itself.

"Let's go," she said as she slammed the door closed.

Stiles' expression was blank as he obediently followed her instructions. The first several minutes of the car ride were painfully awkward. Really, it was only Stiles who was uncomfortable; Amy seemed not notice anything strange between them, but this was undoubtedly because she was consumed by her own mournful thoughts.

Her friend's voice roused her from her reflective silence: "My dad's going to want to talk to you."

She snapped her gaze away from the window and met his eyes impassively. "Why?"

Stiles shifted in his seat and readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. In the pause preceding his response, the meaning of his words clicked in Amy's head. "Oh," she murmured, turning her head to face the window once more.

"You and Derek…" he started.

This elicited an unexpectedly strong response. She leant her forehead against the glass and her body shook with noiseless sobs.

Alarmed, Stiles put his hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting fashion and said, "I'm so sorry, Ames, I didn't mean –"

"It's alright," she cut him off, her tone surprisingly hard. "It's just… On top of everything else… He and I may not have had the most conventional relationship, but we always got on pretty well. We don't usually fight… But this – this was a blowout. I'd much rather argue constantly about him not answering his phone than have this."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to because it's none of my business, but what was the fight about?" It seemed inconceivable to Stiles that anyone – even the sometimes utterly heartless Derek – would cause such an enormous conflict on the eve of their significant other's father's death.

"I love him more than I've ever loved anyone or anything, but he will never be capable of feeling the same way," she stated dully.

Stiles faltered, not having anticipated such a direct response. "… Maybe it was just a misunderstanding," he tried lamely. Again, he mentally kicked himself for sounding so obtuse.

Amy let out a short, humorless laugh. "I think it's the other way around," she said darkly, "I think the misunderstanding that was our relationship has just been cleared up, and that's the source of the problem."

When Stiles first learned of Amy and Derek's "relationship," as she put it, he had been skeptical. Which was why now, he was loath to say that _surprised_ was not amongst the emotions he was feeling. He tried to see the good in almost everyone, he really did. And until that point, Derek hadn't given him much to work with – so when he found out, although he was skeptical, he was just as equally hopeful. He had _wanted _it to be true – he had _wanted_ it to work. But he just couldn't convince himself that it would. And now he was angry. He felt the overwhelming (and, admittedly, familiar) urge to sock the new alpha in the teeth. Derek had no right to fool around with Amy like that, especially when he _knew_ he knew what he was doing from the start.

"Maybe he'll come around," he suggested solely for her benefit.

"Maybe," she breathed in what was barely a whisper. She repeated the word like a curse, but meant it more as a prayer. But they both knew that Derek was more stubborn than he was logical.

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><p>Once at the Stilinski residence, the pair exited the Jeep. Stiles prayed that his father wouldn't interrogate Amy too extensively. He didn't think he would, given the circumstances, but he couldn't guarantee it. His father had drunken a couple glasses of scotch upon his return home, a rare indication of a particularly difficult or tragic case. In all his years as Sheriff, Mr. Stilinski was seldom tormented by anything work-related.<p>

Stiles closed the door behind him as quietly as he could. Maybe his father was asleep…

"Stiles?" came a gruff voice from the kitchen; the teen winced. Obviously not… His line of sight flittered to Amy; her expression held a distant lack of interest. Together, they tentatively made their way into the other room.

The sheriff, still in uniform, was seated at the wooden table with an array of papers in front of him. A glass of melted ice with the faintest tinge of amber stood in his listlessly cupped hand. Yes, his father drank when he was involved in a bad case. But he also drank when he thought of his deceased wife, Stiles' mother.

It was a topic that they didn't address, a perpetual elephant in the room that neither of them wanted to acknowledge. It was harder for his dad, Stiles recognized, because he himself had been pretty young when she died. His memory of the event was hazy, fogged and made less painful by time. He couldn't say the same for his father.

"Dad, is it okay if Amy stays here tonight?" he asked, forcing his tone to sound normal.

His father seemed incredibly surprised to see her; she wouldn't quite make eye contact. He knew that the only reason she was here was because of his son and that she would have most likely avoided contact with the police for as long as she was able to otherwise. And Mr. Stilinski was a kind man, but he was also a very principled one. He didn't want to question Amy, he really didn't. Especially not now. But maybe he could help her – by all accounts, she was a witness. The _only_ witness that they had any chance of locating in the foreseeable future. It was in her power to change everything they knew about the case.

"Amy, I'm so sorry about what's happened," he used as his introduction. She remained defiantly silent, almost as if she sensed the caveat that was about to follow. "_But_," he continued, "you have to understand that your cooperation is absolutely essential to this case."

Still, she stayed quiet.

"Dad, can't you just do this another time," Stiles protested tiredly.

He wished he could, but he knew that the odds of her being awake when he left for work in the morning were slim. This might be his only opportunity. "Yes, but right now there are a few things that can't wait to be cleared up."

Amy released a loud sigh and steeled her features. "What is it you want to know?" she asked monotonously.

"The Argents seem to think that you were there when Kate was killed… Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Was it – was it indeed your father who killed her?"

"Yes."

"What was she doing in your house?"

"She was going to kill us."

"So you believe your father acted in self-defense?"

"Yes. But it doesn't matter. He's dead."

"But it matters for the case concerning Mr. Argent," he reminded her as gently as he could.

This struck an unexpected chord and her eyes brightened suddenly. "Mr. Argent wasn't there for the whole thing," she said, "Just my family was. All he saw was my father kill Kate." She conveniently omitted Derek.

_Why would she protect Chris Argent_, Stiles couldn't help but wonder, utterly perplexed. But he soon realized that _he_ of all people should understand - why, it was something that he himself might do in the same situation. Amy was trying to shelter Allison from the pain of losing her own father.

"So what happened next?" Mr. Stilinski pressed.

"He and some of his friends probably thought that my dad had gone crazy, so they started to attack him. He ran off and Mr. Argent followed him. My mom and brother followed, too. I don't know what happened after that."

"Do you know what happened to your mother and brother?"

"No," she lied resolutely.

"It doesn't sound as though they did anything wrong," he tried, "Are you sure you don't know where they are?"

"Yes, I'm sure. They just took off. They didn't tell me why or where they were going."

Sheriff Stilinski scribbled several things down before saying, "That's all I needed to know for tonight, Amy. Again, I'm so sorry that you had to be involved in this… Stiles, why don't you take her upstairs."

Stiles nodded and ushered her towards the staircase. Once they got to his bedroom, she collapsed onto his bed without a word. Always the loyal friend, he took her shoes off and threw a blanket over her. When it seemed she was asleep, he crept downstairs to talk to his father in private.

"How did you get her here?" the sheriff asked, genuinely baffled.

"She called me."

"Poor thing… She probably has nowhere to go…"

"Yeah. Look, what's the deal with this case?"

"You know I can't tell you, Stiles," he warned resignedly.

Undeterred, Stiles took the bottle of scotch out of the cabinet and replenished his dad's glass. The elder Stilinski looked at the liquid hatefully and said, "That's not necessary." Nevertheless, he drained half the drink in one gulp.

"From what we know now," he started, "It seems that Kate was responsible for the killings all along. She entered the Bell's house with a gun, and Jeff reacted in an understandable fashion. If he'd lived, he probably wouldn't have gotten any time… It does very much seem like self-defense. But Chris Argent's response was equally understandable, given the fact that he only saw Jeff kill his sister. He probably thought he was in danger and that _Jeff_ was the killer. Jeff, conversely, might have thought Chris was involved in whatever Kate was up to. There was a scuffle in the woods and Jeff was killed."

"So what's going to happen to Chris Argent?"

"That's why Amy's testimony is so important. We really need to find the rest of her family. They were the only ones besides Chris who know what happened in the woods. Without them, it's impossible to know for sure what happened. But the fact that they fled only helps Chris' case that he acted in self-defense. And Amy didn't seem to think he was an accomplice to Kate's actions…"

"So he's just going to walk free?" Stiles demanded in indignation.

"That's what it's looking like. There might be some court cases, but if Amy doesn't seem to think he's guilty of anything besides acting to protect himself, there's no way he's going to get jail time."

"What's going to happen to Amy?"

"Right now, her mother is going to be treated as a fugitive. Since her brother is still a minor, he's not in too much trouble. Amy's phone calls will be monitored and their credit card accounts will be tracked. She's legally of age, so she won't become a ward of the state or anything like that. I expect she'll have to get a job and stuff at some point... We'll do what we can, give her a place to stay and such."

"What about her house?"

"Right now it's a crime scene."

Stiles absorbed this information for several seconds before continuing, "What about Derek Hale?"

"What?" was his father's surprised response.

"He was the main suspect in those killings, right? But now that you know it was Kate, what's going to happen to him?"

"Well the evidence against him wasn't that strong to begin with," he began thoughtfully, "So I guess he'll probably be exonerated… _Why_?"

"Just wondering," Stiles covered quickly.

Sheriff Stilinksi was about to pressure him for more information, but eventually decided that he didn't want to know. He had enough on his plate as it stood. So, he opted for a different topic. "Is this Amy someone you care a lot about?" he asked cautiously.

Not fully grasping the meaning of his father's question, Stiles impatiently replied, "I guess so, yeah."

"… You can tell me, Stiles – is she your girlfriend?"

"No, it's not – it's nothing like that," he sputtered hastily. Flustered, he turned his head to avert his gaze and willed his face not to turn red.

"Because it just seems like it," his father continued, "I mean, it seems odd that she would turn to you otherwise."

"Allison was her best friend," he stated bluntly, "but for obvious reasons I don't think she'll be having slumber parties at the Argents' any time soon. It's nothing more than that… Trust me, you would laugh if you knew what it was actually like."

Mr. Stilinski nodded gravely. "I see…" His pity for the young woman was practically tangible. This was what he hated most about his job – he hated seeing the people that were left behind in the wreckage. The heartbreak, the betrayal, the misery. He met his son's eyes meaningfully and said, "Take care of her. We both know how hard these things can be." This was the closest they would come to outwardly mentioning that which went unspoken.

Stiles licked his lips anxiously and nodded in affirmation, before turning around abruptly and heading back upstairs. The Sheriff watched his son, whom he cared about more than anything else in the world, disappear from view, before pouring himself another glass of scotch.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: So yeah, that was angsty as hell, I know. I watched Wuthering Heights right before I wrote this so that MAY account for some things. Lemme know what you guys think. I need to know your opinionssss! And the AmyStiles idea that I was entertaining has pretty much gone away. I realized that I cannot use Amy as a character to fulfill my own personal fantasies (coughcough having both Stiles and Derek cough) SO that will not be happening. We wouldn't want to spoil the artistic integrity of this fine piece of literature, would we? (don't worry, that was sarcasm). Also if you're wondering why these A/N's are particularly incoherent, let's just say it's better if you don't know. **

**But tell me what you think of Derek, Amy, Stiles, and Sheriff Stilinski! **

**But yeah new episode tonight, let me know your thoughts on it after you watch! I'm really really happy with the direction they're taking it and I kinda shipped Stiles/Erica before but now I am hardcore. And Scott/Derek collaboration? Thank the lord! I have been waiting forever for this! Also it's definitely the chemistry teacher's car, holla! Please review guys, please review. And please check out Shellow's story (The Ruler and the Killer). Peace. **


	38. Chapter 38

**Author's note: Guys, I'm really sad. There are literally hundreds of people subscribed to this story, and yet only like 10 of you reviewed the last chapter. That'a record low! Those of you who reviewed, I love you dearly. You know this. Maybe it's because the action has subsided. But seriously, I'm not going to threaten that I won't continue uploading chapters. Because I will continue this story regardless. But if you care at all, please just take a second to let me know your thoughts. It's hard to write without any feedback and I'm sure you don't need me to tell you this - out of the goodness of your heart, please just let me know what you think. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter.**

**On a happier and less whiney note, HOLY MOTHER LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE WAS CRAY! One of my favs! Leave thoughts/opinions/anything you want to say in the reviews :-) I don't want to be spoilerific, but I will say more at the bottom A/N.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 38<strong>

_Amy_

When Amy opened her eyes to her surroundings the next morning, her immediate realization was – strangely enough – that this was not the first time she had woken up in Stiles' bed. The first time was months ago, the same night she had first met Derek _as_ Derek. Despite her resolve not to think about _him_, she smiled sadly to herself at the memory; she had been drunk, and he had been injured. Neither had had any idea what was to come. In fact, when she'd woken up in the very same position she was in now and watched Derek descend from the windowsill, she didn't think she would ever see him again (despite his claims that they would, most likely, cross paths). Oh, how wrong she had been…

She had half-expected him to be there when she awoke, but those hopes were swiftly dashed and replaced by bitter disappointment when she came to the conclusion that she was totally and completely _alone_. And in more than just the physical sense.

Amy didn't know why she had thought he might go after her. It'd been a stupid wish and a testament to just how reliant on him she had become. She felt nauseated by the suggestion of it all, by the suggestion that she was irreparably dependent on him, by the suggestion that she _needed_ him.

The girls her age that behaved like their boyfriends were the defining points of their personalities had always made her scoff in disdain, and now she couldn't help but identify a distinctive feeling of dread: she was becoming one of them. She would give herself a pass, though – if there was ever a time to succumb to your emotions, it was in a situation such as hers. In all honesty, Amy felt absolutely no obligation to behave normally, not anymore. Letting everything out was part of the healing process; Derek obviously had yet to recognize that, and he might never. It had already been years. The likelihood of him letting his guard down – even for her – grew dimmer as time marched on. She thought, despondently, that she just might have to come to terms with that.

But was it worth it? Was it worth it to pour one's self so completely into a relationship and _know_ that the other person would never do the same? She wasn't sure, but she couldn't imagine that it was.

_Derek_

It was twisted, but Derek _wanted_ Amy to hate him. He wanted her to hate him, because then he would feel less guilty. He wanted her to scream at him and release all the pent up frustration she undoubtedly harbored towards him. She had vented a bit of her wrath the previous night, but he knew that that was just the tip of the iceberg.

He was good at dealing with people who hated him – nearly everyone did, so it was a skill that he'd had many years to perfect. He'd dealt with hostility so often that it just seemed natural. His cold and detached demeanor, which had at one time been merely a shield, had transformed into a daily routine. Derek saw this as a form of evolution; his experiences had made him more resilient, as they were supposed to. It was wholly understandable and nothing to be mourned. Perhaps the others might have liked the old Derek better, but he preferred himself as he was: strong.

The man he _used _to be was the coward, not the man he was now. He knew Amy didn't see it this way. She thought he was trying to protect himself from heartbreak again, trying to prevent another romantic disaster. And maybe that was true. But he knew better – he knew himself better than she did, and he knew that, although this was a factor in his desire to leave Amy, it was not the sole reason.

He would hurt her. Whether it was intentional or not, he would hurt her. He didn't want to, of course, but he knew that eventually he would. Hell, he already _had_. He should have ended it earlier – he realized that now. It was all a mistake, a big, giant, utter mistake. But he couldn't rewrite the past, as much as he wished he could.

He would have to wait to make these intentions known, though. To break things off now wouldn't just be cruel, it would be absolutely heartless. He didn't even want to know what she might do in the wake of everything, and he couldn't be responsible for anything bad happening to her. He did – he did _care_ about her. A lot. And it would hurt him to let her go, it really would. It would hurt him more than he wanted to admit.

Amy made him… What was the word? Happy? No, that seemed too simple. It wasn't just happy, it was… content. She made him feel normal, like he could put all this shit that had happened to him in the past. She took away the blinding need for vengeance that so often tore at him, or at least subdued it. She took away the hatred, the resentment, and the pain.

But he didn't need her. She was a luxury, not a necessity.

She would get over him in time. He didn't know how long it would take, but it was imminent. And he would get over her. It would be tough for both of them, but they would get through it. She would find someone else – girls like her always did. She was beautiful, smart, kind – she would find someone deserving of her, someone who could love her back just as passionately. But he was not that person.

He worried for her now, though. She was alone with Stiles, and Derek knew that it should be _him_ comforting her, not her friend. She needed him and he was failing her, just like he predicted he would. He failed everyone he ever cared about, so why should she be any different?

But he still had time to make things right with her before they parted ways. Time that he didn't have with his family. He knew what he had to do.

_Amy_

Amy stumbled blindly into Stiles' bathroom, willing herself to ignore the piles of dirty clothes – and, disturbingly, _boxers_ – littering the tiled floor. She stripped, made her way into the shower, and turned the water up to its maximum temperature. The stream of liquid heat engulfed her, washing away the daze of shock and grief. When she felt tears prick the backs of her eyes for what seemed like the millionth him, she took a shaky breath and forced them back. No more. She would not be weak.

Twenty minutes later, she stepped out of the steam-filled shower smelling like Axe. She hadn't changed her clothes since the hunters had kidnapped her and she couldn't bear to even look at the outfit. She wanted to burn it; there was no way she was putting it back on. After wrapping a fluffy, navy-blue towel around herself, she padded back into Stiles' bedroom and started rooting through his dresser in search for something suitable to wear. She settled upon a Beatles shirt, which, thankfully, fit her like a dress. He would most likely be weirded out by the sight of her wearing his clothes, but she couldn't be bothered do find any other alternative solution.

She trudged down the steps, only to see Stiles passed out on the couch with a checkered blanket thrown haphazardly over his motionless form. The house was quiet; Sheriff Stilinski was long gone, but the pot of coffee he had made was still warm. Deciding not to wake Stiles up, Amy meandered into the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets in search of a mug – she needed caffeine to get her through even another hour of consciousness. At the sound of the shuffling glassware, Stiles clambered almost comically into a sitting position, his arms flailing wildly. He snapped his head from left to right rapidly in search of the noise, his groggy eyes finally settling upon Amy. She was frozen in place with an apologetic look displayed across her features.

"Sorry, I was just trying to get some coffee," she said, "Do you want some?"

"What – no, no I'm fine. It's fine," he paused awkwardly, before continuing, "How – er – how are you feeling."

"I'm alive," she deadpanned.

He nodded curtly. He hadn't expected much of a response, so it was at least comforting to see that her dark sense of humor was still intact.

When she was finished pouring the drink, she approached Stiles on the couch; he quickly moved his legs out of the way so she could sit beside him. His gaze flickered over her, lingering on his t-shirt and nervously skimming over the vast expanse of bare skin below its hem. She curled her legs beneath her and clutched the mug with both hands. For a moment, she looked as if she was about to say something, but the intention wavered and she instead chose to remain silent. So, Stiles spoke:

"You know Amy, I know how horrible you must feel – to say it sucks would be a huge understatement – but it gets better, it really does."

She nodded mechanically, but didn't meet his eyes.

"My mom," he started, "She died when I was a kid."

He had never told her this; sure, she had wondered what happened to his mom before, but she just assumed that his parents were divorced. Her body language immediately changed and Stiles could tell that she was now listening intently.

"It was different than your dad," he continued somberly. It was now he who would not meet her eyes. His shoulders were hunched and his tone was completely devoid of its usual mirth. It was very strange to see Stiles so serious, perhaps even unnerving. Abruptly, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes – it was much too early for these sorts of deep conversations. But he could tell from her change in demeanor that his words, oddly enough, could offer her some solace.

"It was," he paused, trying to invoke the right word, "… slower. She had cancer." He looked up suddenly to see her reaction, expecting sympathy – that's how everyone reacted. They felt bad for him. It was annoying.

To his surprise, her expression was peculiarly neutral. Maybe she had already used up all of her emotion… Or perhaps she had temporarily lost the ability to empathize – that was probably the more likely of the two options.

Her lack of a response encouraged him to press on. He didn't like talking about this – in fact, he hated it. Everyone always looked uncomfortable, like they weren't really even listening to him. All they heard was, "My mom is dead," and then they stopped. Whatever else that came out of his mouth after that was irrelevant, because they were too blinded by their pity to actually take his words into account. Even Scott did this. But not Amy, not now. He was glad.

"At first, I didn't understand why it had to happen to me," he said, "It just seemed so unfair. Kids my age weren't supposed to lose their parents, least of all their mothers. Even when she was sick, I was angry. It was so frustrating. She was supposed to take care of _me_, but she couldn't. I hated her illness, I _hated_ it. And I hated the doctors for not being able to fix her. And I hated what it did to my dad – I needed him to be strong. I needed him to tell me it would be all right. I know he tried; I realize now that he tried harder than I should have ever expected him to. But it was all too much… And even for a few years after she died, I used to get panic attacks. The first time it happened was about a month later, after everyone had finally stopped telling me how _sorry_ they were. But at some point the attacks stopped – I thought they never would, but they did."

He wet his lips and studied Amy's intense eyes. "What I really mean to say here," he continued with a melancholy laugh, "is that you'll get through this. I just – I mean, I want to help you know what to expect. Everyone reacts to this stuff differently, I know, but I think I can at least _try_ to understand. You have me to talk to, if you want. I know you probably want Derek. He probably gets it, too. And I'm sure he'll come around. But – uh – if he doesn't, you always have me... Not in a weird way, obviously –"

Amy cut off his babbling by hugging him tightly. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face into his chest, tears flowing freely. She was touched by his effort to console her. It had been far more heartfelt that she had previously thought him capable of, and, after Derek's strikingly aloof response, it was exactly what she'd needed.

At first, Stiles hesitated; but he finally came to terms with the fact that she was gripping him for dear life and put his arms around her shoulders, resting his chin on the top of her still-damp hair. He couldn't help but feel slightly anxious – Amy wasn't usually a touchy-feely type of person (at least not with him), so the embrace felt foreign. And Stiles hadn't really had close friends of the female variety or girlfriends. He was out of his element, to say the least.

There was a sudden noise, halfway between a low growl and someone clearing their throat, from the doorway. Amy tentatively unglued herself from Stiles; she sensed who it was before even turning around.

"What are you doing?" Stiles demanded, beating Amy to the question.

"I should ask you the same thing," Derek countered through gritted teeth. His voice held malice and his jaw was clenched, familiar indications of a familiar anger. He stood rigid in front of the open door, almost as if he was expecting a fight.

"Please go," Amy implored lethargically.

His eyes jumped from Stiles to her, his brow furrowed in confusion. Her state of undress and the scent of men's body wash that clung to her bothered him immensely and sparked an overwhelming desire to tear Stiles' throat out.

"I don't want you here," she continued, "Just go. I don't know why you came. You only make things worse."

Derek let her harsh words roll off him and conveyed absolutely no sign of offense. Instead, he looked back to Stiles. Their friendship had always puzzled him – irked him, even. But, every time they were together, he searched for traces of attraction between them. There were never any. However, perhaps he had been misled. Perhaps he had just overlooked the cues. His werewolf abilities allowed him only to sense physical attraction, not emotional, and such trying circumstances could very well have driven her into his arms. And if this was the case, he didn't have the _right_ to be angry.

That didn't stop him, though.

Stiles stood. "You heard her, get out," he ordered.

Derek would have smirked, if he hadn't been so furious. He knew Stiles was afraid of him, and rightfully so. He could crush every bone in the boy's body without even breaking a sweat. For him to attempt to stand up to him was rashly stupid. Admirable, maybe, from someone else's perspective, but stupid nonetheless.

"Don't you _dare_ tell me what to do," he snarled menacingly. He took a bold step forward, eyes flashing red. Amy breathed in sharply at the sight; she detested the color – it reminded her of Peter, it reminded her of her father in his worst state. She longed for the familiar electric blue that she had always associated with Derek. These new eyes belonged to someone else, someone she didn't know.

Stiles gulped and decided to take a different approach. "My dad just told me that they were probably going to exonerate you," he warned, "You wouldn't want to jeopardize that by attacking the sheriff's son, would you?"

Amy turned to Stiles, surprised. She beat down the urge to be happy about this news.

Derek's face at first retained its mask of stoicism, but Stiles' know-it-all tone made him falter. Eventually, he gave up completely and bared his teeth in an obvious attempt to restrain himself. He had never been very good at controlling his temper. By a werewolf's standards, he was incredibly levelheaded; but by a human's, he was far from it.

"C'mon, Amy," he ground out.

"You're not serious," she drawled in response. She, too, got up from the couch, but Stiles made a point of standing in front of her.

"I am," Derek insisted, his voice wavering under his desperate attempts to keep it indifferent. "I'm sorry. I should have been there for you, and I wasn't. But let's go."

She raised her eyebrows, not having expected him to express any sort of repentance. Derek Hale didn't merely _apologize_ – there had to be some sort of catch. After narrowing her eyes, she asked, "Why are you acting like this?"

He pursed his lips tersely in frustration. "I'm not _acting_ like anything," he snapped. However, he blinked more than normal, a rare tell betraying the fact that he did indeed realize his behavior was unusual.

"Yeah Ames, he's just being his douchey self, as always," Stiles quipped.

Derek ruffled visibly at Stiles' use of Amy's nickname, and for a short moment she feared he might actually lunge at him. A sudden realization hit Stiles hard: he was _jealous_! Derek Hale, alpha werewolf and all-around perfect male specimen, was _jealous_ of Stiles fricking Stilinski. Naturally, he could not prevent himself from proclaiming this epiphany.

"Oh my _god_, you're jealous!" he stated brightly, as if he were delivering the winning answer to a question on Jeopardy.

Derek set his jaw and pointed his finger in an accusatory manner. "Don't be ridiculous. I am _not_ jealous," he spat viciously. Stiles flinched upon hearing the abhorrence in his tone, but his feet remained firmly rooted in place.

Amy searched Derek's face carefully; he seemed to mean it, but, then again, she couldn't imagine him ever actually admitting to such a thing, not even to himself – in fact, _especially_ not even to himself. He probably believed his own lies, at this point. Her heart softened against her will; she trusted Stiles' judgment.

"Alright, I'll go with you," she agreed softly.

Derek raised his dark eyebrows ever so slightly in surprise; he hadn't anticipated her leaving so easily.

She started past Stiles and he didn't stop her – after this display, his faith in Derek had been partially restored. It was indisputable: he _did_ care for Amy. The extent to which had yet to be determined, but Stiles suspected that he might actually _love _her, despite all the turbulence they were currently experiencing. Of course, if he did love Amy, Derek had yet to recognize it; but all hope was not lost for the pair.

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><p><strong><span>SPOILERS<span>  
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**Author's note: I actually wrote this chapter way before last night's episode aired, but it seemed really appropriate that both this chapter and last night's episode were Stiles-filled. Literally my heart was breaking for poor Stiles. Seriously. The scenes with him and his dad were just too sad, I couldn't even handle it. Maybe I'm hypersensitive to anything bad happening to my darling Stiles, but I was actually like squirming around in my seat in sorrow as I was watching. **

**And I mean obviously I am in love with daddy-Derek. Him grabbing Isaac's wrist in the vet's office was too funny, poor Isaac was like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. And I loved that they showed just how much Derek truly cares about Scott. I'm diggin' the alliance between them and the rest of the pack. And I think Derek still favors Scott even over Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. But when he told Boyd to drive to safety my heart was gushing. I seriously am unhealthily attached to these fictional characters...**

**Question for you guys: WTF was up with the guidance counselor and the vet? Is he her dad? What are they? Are they legit witches? I was very confused and I'd love to hear your thoughts. And the whole yearbook thing? What was that? And it said they were all 24, right? Isn't Derek supposed to be 24? And Mr. Harris is a pedo? Haha what was that even... And something mad weird is going on with Gerard, I gotta say. Those pills? I think he's a supe of some sort. I have no idea what, but something was fishy about the way he looked at that powder thing... (side note, I loved that Stiles was so happy to accomplish something!)**

**Oh yeah, and Mrs. Argent is a BITCH.**

**Also the music for the whole episode was AMAZING! Sorry, I really don't mean to use this as a blog... Anyways, onwards...**

**END SPOILERS  
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**Tell me all your thoughts! On the show and my story! Also I changed the banner, what do y'all think? How are you feeling about the Derek/Amy and Stiles/Amy dynamics? PLEASE REVIEW, GUYZ! I said this before, but my life goal is to get this to 1,000 reviews by the end, and things are looking grim. My happiness depends on this! Don't let me down, my loves!**


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's Note: Awwww guys, the fact that nearly 40 people reviewed the last chapter just shows me that you all have it in you to make my dreams come true! Haha I may be prone to a bit of hyperbole, but honestly, I CANNOT express how grateful I am. fjawoigjiowe ahhh I love you guys!**

**OK chapter 39 (good god this is so long):**

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><p><strong>Chapter 39<strong>

As Amy drew closer to Derek, he felt the irrepressible impulse to reiterate, "I'm _not _jealous."

"Suuuure," Stiles taunted dryly.

The Alpha didn't even bother looking at him. Amy held his gaze meaningfully, as if to say, _'you had _better_ be fucking jealous._' Derek then balled his fists by his sides and glared at Stiles in sheer loathing, knowing that another repudiation of his claim might drive Amy away. And he didn't want that.

But, it was very difficult for him to swallow his pride. He didn't really _do_ humility, or the whole admitting-he-was-wrong thing, for that matter.

His line of sight followed Amy warily as she wandered through the door, past him. She was careful to make sure that not even their shoulders brushed. His ears perked up as soon as his heightened hearing detected the telltale sound of her car door opening and closing (he had picked it up and driven it to Stiles' in an attempt to put himself back in her good graces). Once she was securely out of earshot, he snarled and pointed a clawed finger at Stiles. He hissed, "I'll deal with _you_ later."

"Oh yeah?" Stiles snapped like a Chihuahua picking on a dog ten times its size, "Well you better watch it, buddy! You're on thin ice – you better make sure she's okay."

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek replied threateningly, barely preventing a smirk from crossing his lips. Stiles' scrappy attitude had always been a source of begrudging amusement for him, but he despised the fact that he was so close to Amy. The fact that he felt the need to tell him to "_make sure she's okay_" made his blood boil.

The teen opened his mouth to dish out a retort, but Derek turned abruptly on his heel and vanished before he got the chance, leaving him alone in the middle of his empty house. He was somewhat unable to fully process what had just happened, so he walked towards the open door, closed it, and went to pour himself a bowl of Coco Puffs.

Meanwhile in Amy's car, Derek stepped into the driver's seat and put the keys in the ignition, neither party uttering a word. Amy's arms were folded over her chest, an obvious indication of her overall foul mood. Derek, unable to formulate any sort of verbal engagement, instead focused the entirety of his energy into driving back to his house.

It was only when they were parked in what had once been the driveway that he spoke. "I need to go down to the police station," he stated.

"Why?" was her curt response.

"Stiles was telling the truth. I'll probably be exonerated, and the fastest way to ensure that is to go to them instead of waiting for them to come to me."

She considered his words, before finally saying, "You should take Scott with you."

For the time being, Derek ignored the fact that her voice sounded nothing of its former self. It was cold and far away and barren of the underlying trace of wittiness that it had always possessed. He replied, "Why?"

"Because he's the one who told the police that it was you who killed those people, right? If you get him to take back what he said, it will only further help your case."

"But that might get Scott into trouble."

"No – Mr. Stilinski wouldn't let that happen, number one, and number two, he could always just say that he was confused and it was dark. Plus, he's a minor. He'll be fine… I'm surprised you even care."

"Why wouldn't I care about Scott?" he asked, confused.

"I didn't realize that you cared about anyone but yourself."

"Please, don't be melodramatic," he warned, his temper flaring.

She turned to him with a frigid gaze. "Am I being melodramatic?"

At this, Derek was thrown; it was a look that was utterly foreign on his strong, masculine features. Finally, he said, "If this is about _you_, Amy, I do care about you – you _do_ know that, don't you? I care about you."

She studied him mistrustfully. "You sure have a funny way of showing it," she snapped. She swallowed hard and turned away from him, setting her gaze on the horizon. She felt dizzy, and she wouldn't allow herself to be overcome by the whirl of emotions that were fighting for dominance. To allow herself to trust him again so unequivocally would be utterly moronic. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't.

He reached over the center console of the car and guided her face in his direction, gently forcing her to look at him. He knew she understood. She had to. No one in their right mind would be stupid enough to think that he cared nothing for her – it was never a question of whether or not he _cared_ about her, it was a question of whether or not he _loved_ her. They were two entirely discrete things.

She screwed her eyes shut defiantly, and softly he ordered, "Look at me."

It took her several moments, but, when she did, there were tears gathering. "Don't do this to me," she whimpered, "Not if you don't mean it."

_Not if you don't mean it_. Her words floated in the air, baiting him. Begging him to respond. Begging him to prove her wrong.

His mouth hung slightly agape as the wheels in his mind churned frantically to formulate the right response. He meant what he was saying, but he didn't know if he meant what she _thought _he was saying. His clear eyes were characteristically inexpressive and held no insinuation of his internal indecision. He was much further out of his league than he had previously thought; there was a constricting in his chest at the sight of this poor, shattered girl, a tightening that he hadn't felt in years.

He did the only thing he could think to do – he kissed her. He brought his lips uncertainly to hers and kept his hands on the sides of her face, partially to prevent her from recoiling.

Her long, black lashes fluttered against his cheekbones and he was able to easily perceive that she was crying again. She never reciprocated the kiss and instead sat rigidly, as if she were paralyzed. And she was. She was paralyzed by fear, paralyzed by the vividness of her heartache.

He pulled back, but kept the distance between them in the centimeter range. Amy leant her forehead against his and finally revealed her crystalline blue eyes, staring deep into his soul. He felt as if she could see right through him, and he had the sudden desire to jerk away; but he suppressed it. The desolation in her irises rattled him to his very core – to think that he had played a part in it was devastating.

It was then that a revelation hit him like a freight train: he could never imagine giving her up. He had been grossly misguided in thinking that it would be the right decision for both of them. Things were different in theory than in practice; when he was away from her, the idea of leaving seemed bearable – but now, with her sitting morosely in front of him, it was unthinkable.

Because it struck him then that it didn't _matter_ if he didn't love her – he cared about her as much as he possibly could, and that was what was important. He couldn't fathom the day when he would want to start over anew with some other girl. She was it for him – she was the only one he wanted. And maybe that's what love was for him, now.

And maybe he had been correct in thinking that she would get over him and eventually find someone else; but _he_ never would. She knew all of his deepest secrets and she had seen the darkest parts of him and yet she _still_ loved him. How would he ever find that again? It was a miracle that she was willing to stick around and he should have been _thankful_, not tried to push her away.

It was strange, how the tables could be turned so unexpectedly. He had always thought that _he_ was a source of support for _her_, but it was the other way around. Sure, a break-up might immediately damage her more, but Derek would most acutely suffer its lasting effects.

What he had seen today between Amy and Stiles confirmed this, and it jarred him back to reality. Perhaps there really weren't any feelings between them at the present. But that could easily change four or five years down the line. They were "the normal ones," as they dubbed themselves, and what couple made more sense than the two of them? They had both survived the same horrors, but they were also both on the periphery. They would never have to explain their pasts to one another, and yet they could still remove themselves from the madness of it all, if they so wished. Stiles and Amy certainly were a hell of a lot more logical couple than Scott and Allison and Derek and Amy.

He knew that, odds were, these thoughts hadn't even crossed either of their minds – not _yet_, anyway. But eventually, all would be illuminated. If he were a better man, he might have considered just letting it happen – Amy would definitely be better off.

But he wouldn't be able to endure this. He didn't know how he would ever be able to live knowing she was happy with someone else, least of all _Stiles_. The simple mention of it made him sick to his stomach. He genuinely didn't dislike Stiles, despite appearances – but he certainly might if Amy started a romantic relationship him. He truly wished he could find it in him to let her go for her own good, but he just couldn't. He wasn't strong enough.

"Why did that feel so much like a goodbye kiss?" she murmured hoarsely, drawing him out of his thoughts.

There was a pregnant pause, but eventually Derek answered, "It wasn't one."

The sentence was incredibly simple, and yet it offered Amy a mountain of relief. She exhaled a deep breath and the life flooded back into her face. She gripped the lapels of his jacket until her knuckles turned white.

Derek raised his eyebrows; he seemed almost startled by her intensity. He didn't shirk from her grasp, though. Slowly, she moved her hands from his jacket up to his face.

"Don't you ever, _ever_ do that again," she chanted as if she had awoken from a trance, "You can't, you _can't_…"

"Amy, I'm not going to leave you," he assured her earnestly. The abnormal sincerity in his voice surprised even him. "I wouldn't… I won't – "

"You _did_."

His eyes searched hers, darting back and forth frenetically as he tried to read the situation. He had only left her alone for a matter of hours, but obviously his absence had had a far greater impact on her than he'd anticipated. "I won't do it again. I – I promise. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Derek, I need you now more than ever. You – you're all I have. You're the only one – I'm alone, otherwise. And I know, I know I chose this. I know you don't approve. But you're the Alpha now, you… I know you can do this. You can put all the bitterness in the past, I know you can – you're ready..."

For a brief moment, Derek cast his gaze towards his ruin of a house. He gulped heavily and muttered, "You're right."

"Really?" she questioned in disbelief.

He only nodded. "It doesn't matter why it's happened – I'm the Alpha, now, and it's out of my control. You're right, I need to take responsibility. It's my duty."

"You're a good man, Derek. You're not perfect, but you're so much better than most. I know you don't think so and I know you've probably never even thought about it like that, but it's true. You have so much potential, and we all need you. Not just me, but everyone – especially Scott. Even when you were still a beta you were the leader. You'll make a great Alpha, you really will."

Amy's words confused Derek; she had a knack for this lately, it seemed. They confused him not in meaning, but in how they made him feel. He grew uncomfortable under her adoration, as if he were doubtful of it. Not only did he not want the pressure of living up to her expectations, but he wasn't used to feeling so… well, so _loved_…. so trusted. Scott and Stiles had been suspicious of his intentions from the beginning, but Amy never had. She'd trusted him from the moment she met him.

When he was a child, his parents had told him stories of 'mates' and omegas and all sorts of werewolf myths. His mother and sister relished romantic tales of wolves who were destined to be together, as any member of the female species would be inclined to do. But, naturally, he and his brother always thought they were absurd. Until the day she died, though, she swore that she and his father were 'mates' in a deeper sense than just husband and wife.

Not even one fiber of Derek's being had ever believed any of these claims until now.

He and Amy just seemed to… click. It wasn't that they were similar – they weren't. They're dispositions were starkly different, and yet they meshed well together. For the most part, she completely understood him. And in turn, he thought that he understood her pretty well, too.

Derek kissed her again. After all these months, even such a familiar action held the same excitement, the same wave of anticipation. Every time Amy kissed him it was different – it was always a gamble. Sometimes he was passionate and aggressive, but others he was almost tender. This time, he was noticeably gentler than usual; almost as if she were a porcelain doll that he might accidently break.

She didn't want to be treated like she was fragile. She knew that once more people found out about her father, everyone would be walking on eggshells around her. She didn't want that from Derek. She needed some semblance of normalcy after everything that had happened and she couldn't deal with _him_, of all people, treating her differently.

She pulled him closer to her, catching him by surprise and nearly sending him toppling over the center console, onto her. He caught himself in time not to crush her and rested his hand on the small of her back as she arched herself into him. Amy rarely took such initiative in these sorts of situations, so he was somewhat impressed by her fervor. However, he knew that she was in a vulnerable state and he didn't want to take advantage of her.

He pulled away and murmured, "Whoa there, tiger," his chest rumbling with each concise word. His eyes were half-lidded and a small, self-satisfied smirk played at his now-swollen lips.

She responded by yanking his head back down to meet hers and attacking his mouth with her own. It suddenly seemed like _she_ was the one taking advantage of him. Derek didn't have the self-control to resist her as she moved her hand to the side of the seat and lowered it as far back as possible. With the engine off, the cold winter air seeped into the car; but between the two of them, neither noticed.

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><p><strong>SPOILERS************<strong>

**OMG LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE OMGGGG. MY STORY ABOUT STILES' MOM IS CANNON? MY VIEW OF DEREK BLAMING HIMSELF FOR EVERYTHING IS CANNON? ALLISON AND AMY PARALLELS? I CANNOT. Words do not work right now. Just tell me what you all thought. **

**END SPOILERS***************

**Sooooo since you all did so well reviewing last chapter, I thought'd I'd try something. It's really just a shot in the dark, but I thought I'd at least try. Whatever the most people say they would like to see, I will incorporate into the story somehow. So it might help to read what other people say, that way you can get ideas, etc. I don't know. I'm just grasping for straws at this point because I am so desperate to maintain this beautiful high. But seriously tell me what you thought of the episode. and Derek. I wanna hear lots about Derek...**


	40. Chapter 40

**Author's Note: As always, thank you SO SO much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Seriously, you guys are what keeps me writing. Side note - I told some of you this, but I wanted to shamelessly promote myself once again: I posted a TW one-shot called No Church in the Wild, you should check it out! Amy is in it! But it's AU and there's no supernatural stuff... Anywho, on to chapter 40. Probably will only be 1 or 2 more chapters of this baby :'(**

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><p><strong>Chapter 40<strong>

Derek left Amy in his room while he stepped out to go to the police station. She was sitting on his bed at her computer, engaged in some sort of school-related activity. Straying far from his usual, detached character, he buried a kiss in the side of her hair and said, "I'll be back soon, Amy. Do you mind if I take your car?"

She acknowledged his request with a mumble of consent, before wishing him good luck. But she didn't trust herself to watch him leave. Deep down, she knew that he wouldn't abandon her – but that didn't change the fact that she now hated watching him walk away.

She heard the first step creak under his weight and she couldn't restrain herself; "Wait!" she called out, slamming her laptop closed.

He was in the doorway in milliseconds. "What is it?" he asked, his eyes flickering over her worriedly.

She responded by launching herself at him. They had just spent the better part of an hour in some position akin to the one they were in now (although before they were decidedly more horizontal…), but it would never be enough. No amount of time together would ever be long enough. Amy was loath to call what she felt separation anxiety, but that's what it seemed to be. He was more than just the one she loved – he was her rock. Her crutch, her anchor. She felt lost without him.

Derek could sense this. And he had to admit, as much as it pained him, that she was slowly becoming the same for him. Codependence was in his nature – _their _nature – and, as much as he fought it, he would never be able to escape it.

"I have to go," he groaned indistinctly against her warm mouth.

"Nooo," she protested, nipping his bottom lip a little too hard to be seductive. A low growl rolled through Derek's muscular chest – apparently too-hard-to-be-seductive didn't exist for him. Although, he had always had a penchant for bad girls…

"I'll be back soon," he repeated reassuringly. "Just think of how much better it will be when I don't have to sneak around constantly."

Amy released him and chewed her lip contemplatively. That did indeed sound like an appealing prospect. In all this time, in all the months they'd known each other, Derek and Amy had never even walked down the street together. Their escapade in San Francisco, brief as it had been, wasn't even spent as a couple.

"Okay," she murmured. "I'll see you later, then. Come back soon."

He nodded briskly. It was understood. It was understood between them that he would come back. He would always come back. She needed him to come back.

Derek's inching towards the door interrupted this string of thought. She held his hand at an arm's length, before he finally slipped away. He drifted down the steps quickly, as if the speed of his departure made some difference in the amount of anxiety it would cause her. It wouldn't. It didn't. She felt lost and alone all the same.

Sitting back on his bed, she tried to find a way to bide her time.

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><p>It wasn't often that Derek Hale felt emotion. Even when he did, he pretended he didn't. He wasn't nearly as impassive as he tried to seem, but an unnerving number of people knew this about him. Amy was one of them. Scott. Stiles. Probably some others that he was forgetting. His family had known this about him.<p>

Derek had been a stubborn child – that much had never changed. He had always had a sort of silent defiance about him, and it had driven his mother crazy. She worried for him. She worried because he never seemed as happy as his siblings. She worried that he might never be happy. He didn't jump off swing-sets, or play tag with the other children, or run around the house in a cape and pretend he was a super-hero.

It was lucky, in a way, that he had been the lone survivor. All of the Hale children had been raised to be strong – but he was the strongest. He was the most capable of dealing with the loss of _everything_.

But right now, he was nervous. No one would know. No one could guess. He hid it effortlessly. As he stood at the door to the police station, his apprehension was as well-buried as the anger he constantly felt.

He strode in with a confidence that few wanted fugitives would be able to muster in the presence of a building-full of police officers. He was apprehended in seconds, but he didn't resist.

"I want to speak to Sheriff Stilinski," he stated coolly.

"Oh, you'll speak to him, all right," the man who cuffed him spat.

He could feel the hatred radiating off him, and he smirked audaciously. He truly thought he was a murderer. _Idiot_.

He held his head high as they dragged him unceremoniously into the sheriff's office. He spotted a photo of a young-looking Stiles on the desk and repressed an extremely foreign feeling. He knew Stiles and his dad were close; they only had each other. Derek remembered his own father, how close the two of them had been. Too close. It hurt to think about him. As the oldest, he had always been his father's favorite. His father had been an alpha. Just like he was now.

"Mr. Hale," the sheriff stated wryly. "This is certainly not something I expected."

"I hear you caught the killer," was his brief reply.

"Found," Mr. Stilinski corrected, "we found her body."

"I'm not too good with legal stuff, but I _think_ that makes me innocent," he baited, playing dumb.

"So it would seem," the other man muttered as he thumbed through Derek's police file.

"Do you mind, then?" He held out his wrists expectantly.

Sheriff Stilinski sized him up mistrustfully, but nevertheless approached him with the key. "I don't know how you managed to evade us for so long," he started, "But let me assure you that if you ever find yourself on the wrong side of the law again, you won't be so lucky."

"We'll see," Derek taunted.

The sheriff glared at him as he laid the handcuffs onto his desk. "You're a free man now, son. Don't screw it up." He gave him that _look_ that people who still had hope in the world gave. Sheriff Stilinski had seen every horror imaginable, and yet he still hoped for the best. It made Derek shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

He smiled without showing his teeth and replied, "I'd talk to Scott McCall, if I were you. I have a feeling there are some things he'd like to clarify. And maybe your son, too, now that I think about it…" On that note, he sauntered out of the office, leaving Sheriff Stilinski with an utterly confused look on his face. Derek had attracted quite the audience over the course of his short time there; he shot them all a withering smirk as he pushed open the glass doors to freedom.

Once he hit the fresh air, he tried not to let himself feel too pleased. Things would never be normal. Even though he'd been proven innocent, people would still talk when they saw him pass by. He was still the boy who ran away to New York after his family died in that fire. He was still the guy who murdered all those people. But he was used to it. People had been talking about him for years, why should they stop now?

Derek's handsome face contorted into a frown when he reached Amy's car. The first thing he planned to do was take his Camaro to a body shop.

And then what? He was going to buy an apartment. Somewhere to live. Somewhere that wasn't falling apart.

Because he didn't want to live in that carcass of a home. He didn't need it. He didn't need the reminder. Where he lived should be a reflection of his state of mind – he wasn't falling apart anymore.

Amy was falling apart. But maybe if he got her out of there, she wouldn't be.

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><p>"STILES!" a low voice boomed through the house.<p>

Oh boy. That sound, familiar though it was, never boded well.

The teen in question galloped down the staircase to stand before his red-faced father. "Yes?" he asked innocently.

"Do you want to explain to me why Derek Hale walked into the station today and told me that I should talk to _you _about his ability to evade police capture for months?" It was an order, not an inquiry.

"Errrr," Stiles sputtered, "I don't know what you're talking about…?"

"He mentioned you and Scott." The anger wasn't letting up. Stiles decided to try a different approach.

"Now Dad," he started, "Why would _we_ of all people help Derek? That's ridiculous – we were the ones who reported him in the first place!"

"Hence my confusion!" he pressed.

"Look, obviously living in that burned down house has been messing with his head – he's probably been breathing in asbestos or something," Stiles reasoned animatedly.

The sheriff's light eyes narrowed to slits. "How do you know where he's been living?"

Shit. Stiles opened and closed his mouth several times in the hopes that some sort of reasonable response might just fly out, but he had no such luck. "I – I – er," he floundered.

"That's it Stiles, we're going to sit down and you're going to explain everything or you're grounded for life. Got it?"

Stiles licked his chapped lips anxiously and muttered, "For life, huh?"

Before anything cleverer could leave his tongue, Mr. Stilinski grabbed him by the ear and dragged him into the kitchen. "Ow. Ow. Ow," his son chanted the entire way.

Once seated, Stiles' eyes darted around the room, desperate for something to distract his father.

"Talk," he commanded. Stiles could already tell that this was going to be good cop/bad cop _sans_ good cop.

"Alright, look, so when Scott and I called you, we were sure that Derek was the one who killed those people, right? But then, you know, new evidence came to light and we realized that it wasn't actually him – we didn't know who it was, but we just knew it wasn't him. So we felt bad, and we kind of… I don't know. We _might_ have _maybe_ helped him a _teensy weensy _bit…" He held this thumb and index finger together to indicate said amount.

"Why didn't you say anything to me?" the sheriff hollered wildly.

"Because we had already told you that it was him! It seemed like a bad idea!"

The elder Stilinski brought a calloused hand up to cover his face, concealing – what was it? Shame? Disappointment? A whole slew of things that Stiles was far too accustomed to. It hit him straight in the heart. He _wanted _to tell him. He wanted to tell him everything. He wanted to make it all right. But he couldn't. For his own good, he couldn't. It was better if he just thought he was a fuck up. It was safer.

Finally, "So Derek really is innocent?" He sensed relief. _Thank god, something positive_.

"Yeah," he murmured.

"Well, at least everything is set straight now… But Stiles, you're still grounded. For a month."

"What! A month? But you said – "

"I said you wouldn't be grounded for _life_ – consider yourself lucky." With that, he stood from the table and left the room.

Stiles stared into the empty air for several moments, before whipping out his cell phone. "Derek, you asshole," he hissed in an attempt to remain out of his father's earshot, "you ratted me out! Some thanks I get for harboring your sorry werewolf ass! You're on your own next time!"

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><p>Derek received this lovely voicemail just as he was pulling up to his house. He smirked as he listened to it, finally filled with a satiating sense of retribution after having caught him with Amy. Served the kid right…<p>

He entered the house, startlingly anxious to tell Amy the good news. Something about coming home to the girl he cared about seemed much too mundane to be happening to him.

He soon saw that she was right where he left her, on his bed. She peeked up from behind the screen upon hearing him walk in.

"Guess what?" he started, "They dropped the charges."

She smiled sadly. "I'm not surprised. But that's great."

He nodded gruffly; he hadn't expected her to demonstrate any more happiness than she already had, and a melancholy smile was certainly enough for him. With a completely neutral expression, he approached her.

"I'm going to take my car to get fixed," he stated.

"That's good. I've missed it."

"Me too. And I'm going to find somewhere else to live."

"_What_?"

"Yeah. Look at this place, Amy. It's a wreck. We shouldn't be here."

"_We_?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, if you want…"

She embraced him suddenly. "Of course, you idiot," she mumbled into his chest. "But wow, like, we're going to be _living_ together living together."

"Isn't that what we've been doing for the past month?" he asked dryly.

"No, it's different. This has been more of a 'me staying over for an extended period of time' thing. Only my clothes and shoes and school stuff are here. But getting an apartment together is much different. We'll have to get furniture and all that sort of thing."

He looked at her stoically. He hadn't really thought about any of what she mentioned, but he supposed she was right.

"What you're suggesting is much more grown-up," she murmured distantly.

"If you're not ready…"

"No," she interrupted, "I am. Trust me, I've been forced to grow up. There isn't anywhere else I'd rather be than with you..."

"Good," he grunted. "Then it's settled; I'll start looking right away."

She nodded slowly, the hollow look in her eyes still present. Derek realized then that he wanted to live with her because he cared for her and because he wanted to _take care_ of her. He obviously couldn't know what was going through her head, but he _did_ know that his own state of mind after his parents' death wasn't healthy at all. Amy needed to be kept under observation, as much as he hated to say it. He could only hope that leaving this constant reminder of death would serve to help them both.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>

**************SPOILERS*********************

**Dude Derek and Stiles last episode were literally what made it for me. I cannot believe that such blatant fanservice actually made its way onto television but hey I'm not complaining I thought it was hilarious. The fact that they are so aware of the Sterek ship is so funny to me for some reason. But anyway: SCOTT, YOU FUCKER. ALL THE ARGENTS ARE CRAY IT MUST BE A GENE THAT KICKS IN AT 18 BECAUSE LITERALLY EVERY MEMBER OF THE FAMILY IS BATSHIT CRAZY. Allison better not hurt my baby, I swear to god... Haha I will kill her off in this story slowly and painfully (not really). **

**************END SPOILERS******************

**Okay so end of my chapterly rant. Questions for you all: thoughts on the episode? On the chapter? I tried to give Derek a little bit more backstory. THIS PART IS IMPORTANT: How opposed would you all be to something supernatural happening to Amy? Let me know because this is extremely important. Ok. That is all. Please review! I doubt I will reach my goal of 1000, but we can definitely get to 900! And please check out my other story! Love ya :-)**


	41. Chapter 41

**Author's Note: Ahhhh OMG guys, this is the second to last chapter. Holy mother of god. This is so sad. As always, thank you all SO SO MUCH for reviewing. Seriously, like, this story wouldn't exist without all of you. I hope you all like this chapter.**

**ALSO FANMIX FOR FT BY JEDIPRINCESS-KNIGHT WHO IS AMAZING AND AWESOME AND EVERY GOOD ADJECTIVE THAT I CAN THINK OF: There's a link on my profile, but if you guys are lazy (like me) it's groovshark dot com /#!playlist/Fast+Times+At+Beacon+Hills+High/76052368 Check it out, people!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 41<strong>

_One week later…._

Amy didn't attend Kate's funeral, and they didn't have a real one for her father. Why should they? She was his only family in Beacon Hills. He didn't have any friends. There was no point.

Maybe it was disrespectful that she didn't go to support her friend. Even Scott showed up. Incognito, of course, because somewhere along the way Mr. Argent had figured out that he wasn't just a normal eighteen-year-old boy. Probably that _night_. It seemed that everything of significance had happened all at the same time, all during that same night.

But Amy hated the Argents. She hated all of them except Allison. She hated them just as much as Derek did. Any notion of reconciliation had been thrown out the window long ago, and the guarantee of a perpetual conflict between the Bells and Argents had been solidified the moment blood had been spilt. Derek felt this way about his family, too. The only difference was, he was the last remaining member of his. But, to be fair, Amy _felt_ like she was the last remaining member of hers.

It was scary, but it seemed almost natural that (in the far future) the two of them would someday join together as a family. It was already in the process of happening.

But what did that mean _really_? Did she see herself and Derek getting married? Maybe settling down and having a couple of kids? Not exactly. In fact, she couldn't see it at all. But, she had to admit, Derek as a father would be as interesting as it would be adorable.

She shook these thoughts from her head – it was wrong. She wasn't even out of her teens. She had a lot ahead of her.

And right now, that included getting through high school.

_Thank God for Stiles_, was all she could think on her first day back in class. The whispers were deafening as she passed through the halls. You would have thought that _she_ was a murderer from the way they were talking.

But it wasn't just her they were talking about – no, Allison was the subject of much of the chatter, too. Allison's aunt was a murderer. Amy's father was a murderer. Allison's father was a murderer. Amy was living with a murderer. Death was apparently something irresistibly fascinating to the teenage mind.

Yes, in the wake of everything, some bespectacled freshman had spotted Derek Hale and Amy Bell purchasing an apartment together. It was now common knowledge that the two of them were "dating." To Amy, the word seemed ridiculous – but it was what everyone called their relationship. The whispers only got louder.

Biology was rough. About fifteen minutes in, Amy laid her head on the lab bench; cell phones vibrated frantically, like a swarm of angry bees, and she _knew_ that people were texting about her. They had to be. Allison wasn't in this class. Miss Hazeltine didn't have the heart to reprimand her for not paying attention.

"Will all of you stop it!" Stiles finally snapped when the teacher was facing the blackboard. "Mind your own freaking business!"

Amy gave him a thankful look, but didn't expect the attention to cease. Why would it? They didn't care about her, they didn't care about her mental state, and they certainly didn't care about the fact that two people were _dead. _They just cared about the story. And such was the eternal problem with high school.

Lunch was brutal. From two tables away, she felt Lydia's olive eyes on her. She and Allison were sitting together with Jackson and the rest of the lacrosse jocks – Amy sat alone with Stiles and Scott. She looked around the cafeteria, just like she used to; she scanned the crowd in search of Ian, just like she used to. Nothing. There was nothing. Just a sea of beady eyes watching her.

She flinched when she felt Scott's hand on her shoulder.

"It won't last forever," he said.

"Why aren't you sitting with Allison?" she countered. Maybe he was right. Maybe it wouldn't last forever. But that didn't detract from the pain she currently felt. She had never been particularly close to her brother, but never in her life had she missed him more than she did now.

This shut him up momentarily. "Her parents banned you from seeing her, didn't they?" she prodded.

"Yeah…" he mumbled sadly. "Did you hear the announcement? Her grandfather moved here and he's the new principal. _Gerard_, his name is. I think he's supposed to be keeping an eye on us… We can't be seen together."

"That sucks, dude," said Stiles.

"Don't you see, Scott," Amy hissed passionately, "You two will never be able to be together – _never_. Even if you're willing to put the fact that they're hunters aside, they'll never accept you."

"You're starting to sound like Derek," he snapped, his voice gravelly.

"Derek isn't right about everything, but he's right about this," she insisted.

She sounded cruel and she knew it, but Scott's star-crossed lover attitude was beginning to blind him. She tried to empathize, she did. And if she and Derek were in their position, she didn't know how she would feel. But even though she didn't hate Allison, she couldn't bring herself to fully trust her again. What her family was capable of… that sort of thing wasn't just lost in the gene pool. Allison was bred and raised to be a hunter, even if she didn't know it yet. For all Amy knew, she was a ticking time bomb, waiting to be triggered. And she didn't want to be around when she was. But she also knew that Scott would _never_ accept this, and it just might mean the death of him. On some level, she sensed that Stiles knew and agreed with this as well.

"Look, I get that you've been through a lot," he started, "But I'm not giving up on my relationship with Allison. There's gotta be a cure! And when I find it, then we'll be able to be together."

Neither of his friends looked particularly convinced, but both declined comment. It was pointless to try to get him to see the truth in his predicament. Because what she said was true: he and Allison could never be together. Not as long as her parents' hearts were still beating. And momentarily, Amy scolded herself for wishing they weren't. She didn't want to wish her situation on anyone, least of all Allison. To think – she had only lost one parent – she couldn't even fathom the loss of both. It was then that her thoughts invariably turned to Derek, and she marveled with a newfound admiration at his fortitude.

The shrill sound of the bell signaled the end of her morbid musings. Scott glowered at her as he picked his tray up from the table, and Amy could almost _feel_ a wedge being driven between them.

She was alienated from almost everyone she cared about. And all by her own doing, too. Her family, Allison, Lydia – now even Scott. She couldn't afford to burn any more bridges.

"I'm sorry," she tried, "I didn't mean to be so blunt."

His expression relaxed. "It's all right. I get it, you're not very happy with the Argents right now. I don't blame you."

Amy nodded somberly and Stiles looked immensely relieved that his friends had recovered from their little quarrel. As they walked through the doors into the corridor, she hissed to Stiles, "You know I'm right."

Scott snapped his head around and grumbled, "I heard that!"

And for the first time in what seemed like ages, Amy flashed a genuine smile and said, "Love ya, buddy!"

Scott couldn't help but crack a grin of his own. "You are so weird," he complained.

Just then, the new principle came seemingly out of nowhere and bumped shoulders with Amy.

"Sorry about that, dear," he apologized. His dark eyes – the eyes that he shared with Allison – bore into her own. She got the distinct impression that he was trying to intimidate her.

"It's fine," she nearly snarled. Stiles and Scott looked appropriately disquieted. Both watched as she flexed her hands several times to prevent from balling them into fists.

"An old man like me can't help but run into things that he shouldn't. Sometimes I mistake people for things that they aren't, like students for walls, for example." It was a joke, but it sounded like a threat. "Have a good day, kids." And then he was gone.

"What the hell was that?" she hissed to the boys.

"I don't know, but I didn't like the look of it," Stiles stated with a scowl that was foreign on his face.

"He did the same to me," Scott admitted, "Only he was a little less vague… Let's just say that Gramps doesn't sugar-coat things."

"I'm not exactly a threat at this point," she reasoned.

Scott shrugged. "Neither am I…"

Amy sent him a _you-know-what-I-mean_ glare. Stiles cut in, "Well, whatever it means, let's not worry about it right now. I think I speak for everyone when I say that I've had enough excitement to last me a lifetime. Plus I can confidently say that personally, I'm a fan of just ignoring a problem until it eventually just goes away…"

She rolled her eyes and retorted, "Yeah, _okay_. Somehow I don't really see that as being a viable way of avoiding conflict. Anyway, do you guys wanna come over after school? Derek has something he wants to talk to you about, Scott."

"… The fact that you just casually threw that in there after the word 'conflict' has me worried…" Scott said tentatively.

Amy laughed. "I don't want to give too much away, but yeah. It was no accident, let's just put it that way."

Scott and Stiles shared a meaningful glance. "Fine," the former finally agreed. The group of them had already been through enough to know when a storm was brewing, and there were dark clouds looming on the horizon.

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><p>Amy and Derek's apartment was not what the boys had been expecting. To be fair, they had always associated Derek with gloom and angst and hatred, so their expectations were fairly dismal. And Amy… Well, Amy was in a pretty dark place, too.<p>

They were pleasantly surprised to find that the two did not in fact live in "a goth's wet dream," as Stiles had so eloquently predicted they would; sure, the color scheme was dark, but it the décor and layout were modern and utilitarian.

"Well, this is sure a step up from the Haunted Mansion," Stiles quipped upon entering the residence. They only lived on the second floor, and Derek was fond of using the fire escape in lieu of the stairway. It was "faster," he claimed. Amy disagreed.

She led them into the kitchen and they all sat around the island counter.

"So what is it you wanted to 'talk' to us about," Scott questioned guardedly. Derek wasn't much of a talker, so Scott surmised that whatever he had to say couldn't be good.

"You guys all know that Gerard is in Beacon Hills," he prefaced. They nodded in unison, and Derek felt strangely authoritative. "Well, since I've become the Alpha, omegas have been coming in search of a pack. And Gerard has been killing them. I've found two bodies just this week."

"Where are you going with this," Scott interrupted.

"I need to start a pack. A real one, not just you three. And Scott, I need you to join me."

"I can't," he stated resolutely.

"What? Why?" Amy demanded.

"Because I can't help you guys kill the Argents! I'm sorry, I just can't! You're going to have to find a way to diffuse the situation without me."

"Look," Derek grit out, "the Argents are pissed at _all_ of us. They blame us for Kate's death."

"That wasn't my fault –"

"Don't you see, it doesn't matter! It's kill or be killed, Scott!" he snapped. "Gerard is sure as hell not here to rekindle family ties; he's here to slaughter every werewolf he can get his hands on and _newsflash_, that includes you."

"At least consider what he's saying," Stiles tried uncertainly. "He might be right, dude."

"No. I'm not helping you. I can't. And I can't let you turn innocent people, Derek. This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me – I won't let you do it to anyone else."

"This is a _gift_, why don't you see that? You can't be hurt, you heal instantly, you can do things that normal people don't even dream of!"

"Maybe for you. For me, it's a curse."

"Well, I'm sure that I'll be able to find a couple of people who see it my way. Jackson, for instance…"

"You can't turn Jackson!" Stiles and Scott protested together.

"Why not? I can do whatever I want. I'm the Alpha."

Just then, there was a buzz from downstairs; someone was at the door. Eager for an excuse to leave, Amy jumped to her feet and said, "I'll get it!" If her remaining three friends were about to get into an argument, she didn't want to be around to have to choose sides. Escape seemed like the only option.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Soooo yeah. Oh! I meant to address this last chapter, but I'll do it now... A TON of people have suggested that Amy get pregnant. I agree that this would be good for Derek because yes, then he will get a family and it would be cute! BUT Amy is only 18. And I don't know about you guys, but I don't know any 18 year olds who wanted to get pregnant. She and Derek are both pretty careful in my headcanon, so I don't think they would be having any "accidents." Amy has a wild streak, but when it comes down to it she also has a bit of a goody-two shoes thing going on... So yeah I just wanted to mention that.<strong>

**Anywho! Tell me what you thought about this chapter and last night's episode! Speaking of which, the rant is overtaking me...**

**SPOILERS************** **

**Stiles, bb, I'm here for you. I just cannot deal with this poor kid. I love that he is just a measly human, though, just like joafejwaoifaw. And omg Peter Hale is the creepiest creeper WHY DO I FIND HIM SO SEXY? Damn. ALSO. SPEAKING OF SEXY. FUCKING ISAAC. SINCE WHEN. YOU COME OUT OF FUCKING NOWHERE! I knew he was attractive. Duh. His face is a work of art. BUT YOUR CHARACTER GETS MINIMAL SCREEN TIME AND YOUR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT IS KINDA STRANGE, AND ALL OF A SUDDEN I JUST AM IN LOVE WITH YOU LIKE BAM. THERE WAS NO WARNING. IT HAPPENED BEFORE I EVEN KNEW WHAT WAS GOING ON! I THOUGHT YOU WERE A DOUCHE AND THEN JK YOU ARE HEALING PUPPIES, HOW DOES THAT WORK? Jesus Christ. I have issues. Okay. Done. So much love for Derek, Stiles, and Isaac, how do I function? Anyway. Also okay one more thing... Erica and Boyd? What was that? I'm shipping Sterica, so this ain't doing it for me. And Allison, babe, what are you doing? Please! I liked you! Cease and desist with the psycho thing!**

**END SPOILERS************

**Only one chapter and one episode left! Please review!**


	42. Chapter 42

**Author's Note: Okay, guys, here we go. Thanks for reviews, I'm still standing and, like a phoenix, I will rise from the flames (kidding, kidding). It's been a wild ride. Present tense at the beginning because I felt like switching it up a bit.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 42<strong>

Once away from her bickering companions, Amy vaults down the stairs and wrenches open the door without looking through the peephole.

To be frank, she didn't know who she was expecting. They didn't get many visitors, she and Derek; it came as no great shock that they weren't very popular with the neighbors. But what she _is_ faced with is certainly unanticipated. It is Gerard Argent.

"Ah good, I was hoping to catch you alone," is his greeting. Alone. And they _are_ alone. The door to her apartment was on the side of the building, which meant, essentially, that they were in an alleyway. Amy suddenly senses alarm bells echoing through her brain.

However, before she can even begin to contemplate what is going on, why the principal is at her front door, or why he has a crazed look in his eye, she feels the flesh of her stomach tear open. Pain. First, it is pain. She registers an ornate dagger jutting out of her body, the foreign object secured in the old man's gloved hand.

"This is for my daughter," his hoarse voice rasps.

Amy's brows knit together and she begins to cough, something thick climbing up the back of her throat. A hot fluid fills her mouth and all at once she is drowning. Strangely, though, the sharp throbbing in her abdomen dissipates fairly swiftly and is replaced with a reeling sensation. The scenery around her begins to spin and she remembers something her mother once told her when she broke her wrist: "You know, honey, when you are seriously injured you don't even feel pain. So when I heard you scream, I knew you were all right." At that moment, Amy is completely silent. She tries to form words, she tries. A name is on her lips, but it never leaves. _Derek._

She looks down. Crimson. Everywhere. Pooling at her feet, soaking through her shirt, seeping through her clenched fingers.

When she looks up, he is gone. Vanished, like a ghost. A phantom assassin, lost in the hustle and bustle of Beacon Hills' mundane streets. Why? What had she done to deserve this? But it wasn't about her. She was just collateral damage. She was just a way to send a message.

When she looks back at her glistening red palms, the ground collapses beneath her feet.

* * *

><p>For Derek, the noises at first seemed unconnected. He was in the kitchen; he heard Amy at the door; he heard a crash, the sound of someone hitting the ground. He didn't quite recall how he'd gotten from one room to the next and down the stairs, but the sight of bright blood staining the linoleum floor was forever engrained in his memory. It was like a grisly photograph plastered everywhere he looked. When he closed his eyes, it was all he saw.<p>

Reality never set in, even as he knelt beside her twisted body. It was a dream, a nightmare. He heard Stiles and Scott rush out. Words hovered around him, muffled as though he were underwater. He heard, "Oh my god, oh my god," and he heard, "Save her, save her!" He even heard himself shouting "_no_", praying "_please_," and mumbling "not her." But the sound that truly filled his ears was that of her fading heartbeat.

_Thump_.

The one good thing in his life. The one thing that he let himself care about, after all these years. Of course it would be taken from him. He was a fool to hope that it wouldn't be. He didn't see who had done it, but he knew it was an Argent. He _knew_. Just like he knew this would happen; the Argents would take her from him, just like they had taken everyone else he had ever loved. He loved her. He did. And look where it had gotten him. One step forward, a million steps back.

This would destroy him.

_Thump. _

But he wouldn't let this happen, not again. Not Amy. They couldn't have her.

"Call an ambulance!" someone said.

"DEREK, DO SOMETHING!" rang Stiles' voice. From the pitch of it, he might have been crying. They all might have been crying. He didn't know. He didn't _think_ he was crying, but he wasn't aware of what his body was doing. No, on second thought, he was sure that they weren't. They were under too much duress to express such strong emotion.

_Thump_. It was fainter than ever, now.

The frailty of human life astounded him. At this rate, she would be dead in minutes. Though he tried to, he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when he had forgotten how fragile normal people were. It might have been after his brother died, when he stopped caring. But what had once been irrelevant suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world.

Maybe he wasn't as helpless as he felt with her lifeless form bleeding out in his arms. Her pulse was nearly indistinguishable over the thundering of his own heart against his ribcage. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and he became something else. Something primal. Part of him knew how to save her – not the human part. He let the wolf instruct him.

His canines elongated and he brought her wrist to his mouth, the familiar taste of salt mingled with copper overwhelming his senses. This was the only way. It had to work. If there was a God, if there was any higher being out there, it would work. If it didn't, maybe it was a sign that werewolves truly were abominations.

"Isn't she immune?" he heard Scott demand.

"I don't know," Stiles answered. "I don't know _what_ she is. What if it doesn't work? What if she doesn't change?" He was hysterical. He didn't blame him. Derek didn't know what force of nature was allowing him to remain so externally calm. Perhaps it was shock – but it was more likely sheer necessity.

"She will," he stated; his tone was misleadingly even. If she didn't, Derek feared he would kill every single person he could get his hands on and then drive his car off of a bridge. If she died, he would finally surrender. Just like the Argents wanted. And he would become the creature they thought him to be all along. He would finally prove them right.

"It didn't work that fast for me," Scott pressed frantically.

Derek listened, but never let his gaze leave Amy, not even for a second. Her eyes were rolling back in her skull. "It's different for her. She was born a wolf." And then something clicked. A wave of realization washed over him and he hastily brought his own wrist to his mouth, latching his teeth into the skin. He let his dark blood flow into the wound in her stomach.

"What are you doing? That can't be sanitary!" Stiles exclaimed, clearly appalled. Scott looked horribly repulsed as well, but kept quiet.

"Just wait," Derek ordered through gritted teeth. His ears perked up as his listened desperately for something – _anything _– to indicate that she was still alive. She was like him – she was a wolf. Maybe it was repressed. Maybe it had died off. But dead things didn't always have to stay dead.

"Will it heal her?" Scott questioned, "Like the vampires in True Blood?"

"No."

"Then why..."

"Shut up."

He didn't do it completely right. There were steps that he missed. Mirrors. The full moon. But this was the best he could do, and it _had _to be good enough. She couldn't die. It wasn't an option.

Derek would have been lying if he said he'd ever been particularly superstitious; while he did believe most of werewolf lore, there were still things he remained skeptical of. Resurrection, for instance, was one of them. As far as he was concerned, people didn't just come back to life. But so help him God, he had never been as spiritual as he was now. Now that he could do nothing but put his faith in nature - in _his _nature. In _their _nature.

Her fate was out of his hands, and he hated it. He hated not having control. It seemed as though he _never_ was in control; why should this be any exception? Even as an Alpha, he was a failure.

"Come on, Amy, come on…" he urged her unconscious body.

All of a sudden: "The ambulance is here," Scott announced.

"She doesn't need an ambulance, she needs _me_!" Derek growled savagely. It was his first demonstration of emotion and it caught Scott and Stiles off guard.

But it was too late. The paramedics infiltrated the cramped entrance to the apartment like drones and tried to tear her away from him. He wouldn't let them. He fought against Scott, who worked with all his might to restrain him. It took Derek every literally every shred of his willpower not to transform and massacre the useless humans.

"Derek, Derek, you HAVE to calm down!" Stiles attempted to placate him. He could tell by the worry etched into the teen's face that his eyes were flashing red. But right now, he didn't care. Any attempt to console him would be utterly fruitless.

He tried to follow them as they carted her into the ambulance, but a man stopped him. "I'm sorry, sir, we can't let you back there. You'll have to take a car to the hospital."

Just when he was about to respond with a rage that was completely unparalleled by anything he had ever experienced, Scott came out of nowhere and ushered him to his Camaro. "C'mon, I'll drive," he said quickly, "We're right behind them, see? It will be okay. She will be okay." Derek could tell by the spike in his heart rate that he was lying. But he allowed himself to be guided away before he could put people's lives at risk.

* * *

><p>The ride to the hospital was a blur. Cars passed in a whirlwind of different colors, but Derek could focus only on the flashing lights in front of them. <em>Amy, Amy, Amy. <em>The repetition of her name, like an elegy, consumed his thoughts. She was everything to him. Everything. He didn't know what sort of monster he would become if he lost her. Actually, that was a lie. He knew _exactly_ what he would become. In that moment, he felt like she was the last thing tethering him to his humanity; she was what was preventing him from becoming like Peter. And if that cord snapped... But there was still a small glimmer of hope. They hadn't buried her yet.

Scott's mother informed them that she was going into surgery once they reached the hospital. They had stopped the bleeding in the ambulance, and that in itself was a miracle. But the terms cardiac arrest and coma were also thrown around.

The three of them waited outside her room, each looking physically ill. Stiles' face was blanched and his swollen eyes remained fixed on his hands, while Scott's gaze darted around anxiously. Derek stared at the floor, still drenched in Amy's blood. People sent him frightened looks as they passed. He didn't notice. They skirted around him as though he were toxic, as though it would be _their_ blood he was drenched in if they approached him. And maybe they were wise to be afraid.

Stiles' dad was there, too, along with several other police officers. They were all appropriately melancholy.

It made him sick to see them, to see her injury already being treated like a homicide. He wished he could shut it all out. The murmurs of, _"poor girl_,_ after everything she's been through_," the monotonous ticking of the clock, the squeak of wheels against tile: the symphony of a hospital. The sounds were all superfluous and they did nothing but remind him of the past. Of the fire. Of Peter. For what was genuinely the first time in his life, he cursed his powers. He cursed his hyperawareness, and he cursed his volatile temper. If he had to sit there much longer, he would surely snap.

Sheriff Stilinski questioned them. They answered that they hadn't seen who did it, but they had a few ideas. Stiles would talk to him later. Right now, what mattered was Amy's prognosis. Nothing else. One thing was certain: Derek would see to it that vengeance came later.

Because the Argents _would_ pay for this. All of them. And they would pay in blood.

After a few hours or so, a nurse came to get them. "She's still comatose, but her vitals are stable," she stated. "You can see her now."

Derek let Stiles and Scott enter first, but the woman stopped him as he started through the door. "You're her boyfriend?"

He nodded stiffly.

"Do you know where her parents are?"

"Her father is dead and her mother is a fugitive."

The woman's eyes widened – he knew exactly what she was thinking: _So she's really the Bell girl…_

"I'm the closest thing to family she has," he said bluntly. It sounded disturbing to say it aloud, but he supposed it was true.

She looked hesitant. "Well," she began, "Usually we like to speak to a family member, but since there isn't one present... We don't know yet if she's suffered any long-term brain damage. She could only be out for a few more hours, or it could be longer – I just want to prepare you, hun, she might not wake up… She went a long time without oxygen, and we had to give her a full blood transfusion... It took us a while to get her stabilized…"

"I understand," Derek snapped.

Her overly-lined eyes held boundless sympathy and he felt his stomach churn. Amy _would_ wake up. There was no other alternative. Without another word, he slipped past the nurse and took a seat at her bedside beside Scott and Stiles.

Her heartbeat was strong and steady: _thump, thump, thump_. The blips on the monitor confirmed this. And that was when he knew. It didn't matter that she was hooked up to a circuit board of tubes and machines, it didn't matter that her complexion was as chalky as a corpse's, and it didn't matter that her eye sockets were darkened and hollowed. She would pull through.

For what felt like the first time, he completely shed his steely facade in front of Scott and Stiles and wove his hand into Amy's limp one. It was more than just a sign of affection; it was a plea. He didn't care if he was exposing his weakness. It was pointless to try to maintain any sham of imperviousness at this point.

The moment their skin made contact, her eyes flew open.

And they glowed an electric blue.

**-_THE END_-**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Oh my god, this is like watching a child leave home. I seriously cannot believe that this is done. Holyyyyyyy. Okay. I have so many things I want to say, but I know that I will inevitably forget some of them. Everyone who has reviewed, favorited, followed, recommended this story, read it, basically just THANK YOU SO MUCH, EVERYONE. Honestly, the amount of feedback this story has gotten is crazy to me. I am SO lucky. There are so many great stories out there that don't get even a fraction of the recognition they deserve, so the fact that my little thing has over 900 reviews is wild (CAN WE MAKE IT TO 1,000? lololol I'm relentless, I know, but we are only like 40-something awayyy).<strong>

**ALSO: I mentioned this last chapter, but I'll say it again! JediPrincess-Knight made a playlist for the story! So you should all listen to it! And if you're planning on rereading the story at some point, you should do it while listening to the playlist. **

**As for a sequel, I will probably start one next summer! In the meantime, I will continue the story I posted (No Church In The Wild). Please check it out! It's not going to be like this one at all, but my main goal for it is to just keep everyone completely in character while putting them in situations that they would never be in in the show. Pleeeeeeease read it. If no one is interested I won't continue, soooo (hint hint R&R)... But I have big plans for Derek, Amy, Stiles, Erica, Scott, Allison, Isaac - the whole crew. **

**And lastly, please review! There are definitely people who have been following this all along who have never said a word, so please don't be shy! I know some people like to only review at the end, so here is your chance! Seriously, thoughts on what's happened to Amy? I was SUPER conflicted about doing this because I love her as a human. But I think it progressed things a lot for Derek, which was why I did it. Thoughts? **

**Also I worked really really hard on this chapter and edited it like a million times, so pleeeease don't make me feel like my efforts were wasted! And if you have any questions about anything (like why I posted this chapter at 2 a.m., LIKE I WOULD SLEEP AFTER THE FINALE, DON'T MAKE ME LAUGH), feel free to ask.**

**AND OBVI TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THE FINALE! That's a given.**

**Thanks. Love you all. I think that's it! Goodbye for now :'(**

**x Persephone**


	43. Author's Note

**HEY GUYS! Just letting you all know, I posted the first chapter the the sequel. PLEASE CHECK IT OUT!**

**Much love,**

**Persephone Price**


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